Get Here
by isinshelovely
Summary: Jack Bauer met his match when he became involved with surgeon Sabrina DeLane. The Alpha male in him demanded her submission. Cassadine by birth & defiant by nature, she refused to comply. A year later, as Jack and ex-flame Audrey Raines prepare to say "I do," the former lovers are forced to examine if what they shared was fleeting or meant to be. (Off cannon; orig. characters)
1. Chapter 1

**[Disclaimer: I own nothing when it comes to **_**24**_** and **_**General Hospital**_**. I am merely an avid fan of the shows; especially the characters of Jack Bauer and the Cassadines, respectively. Save for Part I of this story's Epilogue, both the words and all original characters (except where noted otherwise) are mine. And last, but not least, a ****huge**** shout-out to my sister scribe, jrsgirl! It was chapter 15's opening line of dialogue—supplied by ****_her_****—that was the seed which produced this entire tale. Spasibo, my friend! ****_Spasibo_****-Pam]**

Get Here: Chapter 1

The former couple existed in a weird vacuum, one consisting of polite albeit stilted greetings and ever increasingly awkward farewells. On many occasions, more than one person among the tight circle of friends each had held that the latter was because of the underlying attraction—and love—which after all this time and distance existed between them still. It was an assertion neither gave any pause to; for to do so would require addressing the issues which had divided them. Issues, it seemed, that had no resolution in sight—or at the very least neither, in the other's opinion of course, was willing to make any attempt to compromise on. Which made their parting of ways all the more frustrating, for compromise was _not_ the issue; said act was a truly foreign concept to them both, as either rarely if ever engaged in said behavior when it came to their personal lives.

No, the issue at hand was—as it had been from the very beginning—submission.

He demanded nothing less; she, in turn, had attempted to give everything _but _that—attempting to negotiate in response to what he wanted from her. And as was often the case in a battle of such formidable wills, with no surrender in sight, they parted ways. In hindsight, some would say the severing of their ties to each other had been a long time coming, inevitable even. Their relationship's break was preceded by an argument—particularly nasty even by their standards—in which Doctor Sabrina DeLane questioned the validity of the thing Federal Agent Jack Bauer treasured most, that which he basically lived and died by.

His word.

He had insisted repeatedly that even though past missions had dictated he bed his current partner – the determined, tenacious dark-haired beauty Rosa Sanchez – he was in no way a potential candidate for paternity if she was indeed pregnant…

# # # # #

_Jack deliberately put distance between him and his maddening lover. Suddenly, the luxury hotel's massive Presidential Suite seemed to be the size of a bread box. If ever he regretted not having Sabrina reside at his place instead of the usual "family holding" hotel during her weekend stay in California, it was now. If they were at _**_his_**_ place, he was certain she would've left long ago, her frustration getting the better of her. But they were on her turf, so that was not happening; besides, Jack sensed, for some reason it was vital he see this disagreement through. It wasn't an 'argument' as far as he was concerned; that would imply a point of view—which it was apparent Sabrina believed to be __his__—was erroneous._

_"It's simple to me, Jack. Either you slept with Rosa or you didn't. Which is it?"_

_"Do the damn math, Bri."_

_"I have!" she shot back._

_"Then you know I haven't been on a mission with Rosa in nearly five months…"_

_"Exactly."_

_"And that mission was more administrative than covert. I never even had to—"_

_"What, Jack? Whip out your 'gun'?"_

_Invading Sabrina's personal space, Jack came to rest in front of her, so close they were almost nose to nose. It always seemed to be that way between them; they could not deny each other physical contact. Even when the argument was one of a lighthearted nature— something this was a frighteningly far cry from._

_"Be in the same room with her," he ground out, cutting her off and ignoring her crude play on words. "That is what I was going to say!"_

_"Well, then, Bauer, we have a problem—with your math. You said she told you if she _is_ pregnant, she's around two months along. You even said so yourself she's not involved with anyone. So, unless she _**is**_ and he's laying pipe so good she wouldn't even tell upon pain of death – and, again, _your_ words, Babe, the two of you are 'pretty tight and know just about _everything_ about each other' – given you haven't mentioned anything about her saying she's _**got**_ a new man?" Sabrina stepped back, arms folded; brow arched, her visage was a living portrait of incredulity. "Again, I say, do the math. There's only _one_ logical conclusion as I see it," she bit out. "That. Leaves. _**You**_."_

_"And, again, _**I**_ say, either you're gonna believe me when I tell you _**I'm**_ not the father, Bri, or you're not," he hissed. "Know what? I'm fucking sick…sick and tired…of being on my knees about this—about _**every**_ fucking thing, especially when it has to do with my job!"_

_A perfunctory blink was Sabrina's initial response. "I'm sorry. I wasn't aware you've _**ever**_ been on your knees when it comes to _anything_ in this relationship."_

_That she was unmoved was evident. Her response had been delivered in that icy, aloof manner that got under his skin like nothing he'd ever experienced before. That she'd obviously landed a crushing blow was evident in how deathly still her lover's body became. Whatever he felt, whatever emotions he was consumed by—or trying to force to a corner of his soul—was in no way displayed on his face. But his eyes were another story. Fury dueled with pain within the depths of his azure orbs. At that moment, she did not know which gave her greater cause for concern. She never for a moment feared for her physical safety. Emotionally, however, the alarms were sounding wildly._

_And in the midst of it all, for some insane reason she was reminded of the actress Whoopi Goldberg's character in the movie Ghost—and the entire time all she could hear was Oda Mae Brown crowing,_ "Molly, girl? You in **danger**!"

_"Obviously," her reply was slow and measured, "we need some time apart."_

_"Works for me," he ground out. His visage was unblinking._

_"Same here," she agreed. "Besides, I need to spend more time closer to home."_

_In silence he exited the living room. Upon reaching the door, his grip upon the doorknob tensed ever so slightly as it opened. He knew once he stepped across the threshold he was letting her go. He'd meant what he said when he told her he was tired. A part of him knew she was, too. But as with so many things when it came to dealing with his headstrong lover she simply refused to surrender. Jack cast a glance over his shoulder at Sabrina; the look was equal parts sadness and frustration._

_"Good for you, Bri." Jack made a rude noise. "At least now you won't have to worry about dragging around that damn umbilical cord you've been tethered to since the day we met."_

**[A/N: Casting for Sabrina DeLane - Sanaa Lathan (**_**Best Man Holiday**_**; **_**Repentance**_**; Showtime's **_**Boss**_**); casting for Rosa Sanchez - Eva Mendes (**_**The Place Beyond the Pines**_**; **_**Hitch**_**; **_**The Women**_**)-Pam]**


	2. Chapter 2

Get Here: Chapter 2

_"Good for you, Bri." Jack made a rude noise. "At least now you won't have to worry about dragging around that damn umbilical cord you've been tethered to since the day we met."_

The "time apart" was to have been no more than a few days. But 'a few days' turned into a week. A week suddenly became a month. Eventually, one month gave way to another, and another... Soon, they were over.

That had been a year ago.

In that time, they had had little if any contact. Other than her occasional medically sanctioned visits, she rarely journeyed to the West Coast or "his turf"—the Los Angeles branch of CTU, the Counter Terrorism Unit. It seemed the Fates, for the most part, were merciful on those few occasions she did journey to the facility. Her encounters with Jack were either brief or he was nowhere to be found. The latter usually entailed him being off on a mission, a thought she did not like to entertain; it was difficult enough when they were together to tune out the contemplations of danger and violence he was subjected to. Unfortunately, now that he was no longer in her life, such examinations, if she gave pause to them, were the fuel for horrific dreams at worst or barely restrained anxiety at best. Any information each gleaned about the other was almost always via another party; never anyone from either's immediate circle. Always someone along the periphery.

Like now.

When the handsome government official had requested to have his Neurological exam moved up a few months and even offered to come to "her turf" she had thought nothing of the gesture. Generally, after the requisite post-op checkups were done, subsequent exams after brain surgery—even for an aneurysm of the magnitude she'd operated on with him—were only required yearly, some even bi-annually. But this patient was an exception to that rule and not just because of his power and charm.

Ever the shameless flirt, a personality trait she had come to appreciate about him, he'd joked that if he'd known emergency brain surgery was all it took to get a woman as beautiful as her in his orbit he'd have tried to burst a blood vessel years ago. Much to her surprise, Sabrina found herself deviating from her steadfast rule – never cultivate a personal relationship with a patient outside of their initial one which existed as doctor/patient – and forming an acquaintance with him.

Secretary of Defense James Heller was used to being the exception to the rule.

It was an aspect of his personality Sabrina not only possessed herself but one she held a deep and abiding appreciation of. The other traits—arrogance, confidence, charm, ruthlessness, and, yes, sensuality—she was more than familiar with as they were all exhibited by the men she'd known and loved all her life: her father, Viktor Cassadine, and his nephew, her "brother," Stefan Cassadine—as well as the latter's two sons, her "nephews," Nikolas and Andresj Cassadine.

How most of those traits managed to skip the gruff, silver-haired political powerhouse's daughter Audrey Raines both amused and mystified Sabrina. And although Audrey had attempted at every turn to insinuate herself back into Jack's life when he and Sabrina were together, despite her disdain for the soft-spoken Department of Defense liaison, it never impacted Sabrina's interaction with Audrey's father. Besides, _Audrey_ was not the issue. If anything, Jack's ex-lover was more of a non-issue. Something Sabrina was positive that in spite of the monumental headache she could be at times, the willowy, manipulative blonde would probably be crestfallen to discover.

Silently Sabrina admitted if she was being honest with herself, she was thankful; the change in locale meant there was virtually no chance of her crossing paths with the one person who after all this time could still disturb the rhythm of her heart.

_Jack._

The need to direct her thoughts away from those of her former lover was what turned Sabrina's attention back to the conversation at hand; she was not positive but she thought she'd heard Heller mention his name.

"I'm sorry, James," seated at her desk, Sabrina continued scrawling notes in his chart, "did you say something…about Jack?" She said a silent prayer that her inquiry held just the right blend of casual and aloof.

"Yeah, I was saying that as much as I enjoying getting to see you, Sabrina, I'm really glad you were able to squeeze me in now." Emerging from the exam room he smoothly tucked the gray tailored shirt into a pair of perfectly creased black Ralph Lauren slacks. "I get the feeling," he eased on his suit coat, "I'll be pretty busy in the next month…what with Audrey's upcoming wedding to Jack."


	3. Chapter 3

Get Here: Chapter 3

_It was always the same. _

First, the soft fluttering starting deep within that inevitably gave way to a tightening of her inner muscles. Next came the sensation of muted tingling, building from the tips of her toes it seemed and exploding deep inside. Usually, she was able to attain a small form of blessed relief and wrap her legs about his head, a subtle plea to him to cease his ardent efforts. Tonight, there would be no relief. His strong hands, splayed about the insides of her lissome thighs, pinned her limbs to the bed with the greatest of ease as he adored her with his mouth. Each sweep of his tongue against her tiny sensitive nub was designed to elicit a response, be it vocally or physically.

"C'mon, sweetheart," Jack murmured as skilled fingers parted the folds of flesh. Again, his tongue dipped within her warmth, delving deep and slowly, expertly teasing her; giving her a preview of what was still to come. "Let yourself go."

Audrey Raines' entire body tensed. Her lips parting in a silent cry, she swallowed the sounds of her satisfaction. Any cries that did escape were drowned out as she turned her face into the plush pillow and eyes tightly closed – always, _never_ opened – rode out the wave of pleasure.

No sooner had she caught her breath than Jack was rising from between her legs and lowering his body atop hers, positioning his throbbing erection at the entrance of her still over-sensitive sex. With a hoarse cry, he entered her, the sound of his pleasure accompanied by one of shrill surprise from his lovely fiancée.

_It was always the same._

He practically had to orchestrate her participation. Going down on her was a no-brainer, a sure thing; he knew that her response, however reserved, was a foregone conclusion. But sex – almost always missionary style, every now and then female superior…every now and then; _never_ rear entry – was different.

Yes, he enjoyed the feel of her hands gripping the planes of his shoulders; the soft kisses as she stroked his face while she murmured his name. There was a time and place for that. Just not _all the time_. What he wanted—what he _needed_—was the give and take, both physical and emotional, that made the sex not just an act but an experience. He hadn't felt that in a long time.

_**It was always the same.**_

_# # #_

"In or out?" Audrey slid her hand across the kitchen table's surface and laced her finger's within Jack's.

"Hmmm?" Jack continued to peruse the file before him.

"I said," she laughed softly, emphasizing the last word even as with her free hand she flipped the dossier closed, "_where_ would you like to honeymoon—in or out of the U.S.?"

Gingerly easing the folder from beneath her splayed hand, Jack could not prevent the smile beginning to ease across his face if he tried; it was hard not to when witnessing the woman before him like this. "You know I'm good with whatever you want, sweetheart. Whatever makes you happy."

Several years ago, had anyone asked Audrey Raines her thoughts on happiness, the winsome blonde would have placed the euphoric state in the same category as mermaids or UFO sightings—a highly conceptualized myth, but a myth just the same. Life and loss had taught her that painfully hard lesson. Back then, she had believed the relationship she'd begun with then professionally exiled CTU Agent Jack Bauer marked the start of a new chapter in her life. Estranged from her husband of five years, wealthy international businessman Paul Raines, when she met the ruggedly handsome Federal Agent she was moved in a way she had never experienced before. Perhaps it was the stark contrast in temperaments – where Paul was subtle and at times hesitant, Jack was blunt and confident – or maybe the purely visceral reaction she experienced whenever he was near, a truly foreign sensation to the reserved government liaison; _whatever_ it was, the difference was enough to make her want to pursue a relationship with him.

Much to her surprise, she fell hard and fast—as by his admission did Jack.

Other than, at her insistence, keeping their romance a secret from Jack's then boss—Audrey's father, Secretary of Defense James Heller—their budding relationship had been conflict-free. Until a threat to national security thrust Jack back into the world of violence and danger he had vowed to leave behind. It was a side of Jack she had been completely unprepared for. While she was no stranger to the inner workings of the government, Audrey was not naïve enough to think there were not hard choices that had to be made; dark secrets to protect and even darker acts to be executed. What she was not prepared for was to witness the man she loved carrying out those acts—and doing so without hesitating for even a second.

In the end, the threat was neutralized—but at an incredibly high cost. When the dust settled Paul Raines was dead, the result of a judgment call by Jack: he forced the surgeon to halt the surgery being performed on a critically injured Paul and instead treat a similarly wounded accomplice of known terrorists who possessed vital Intel on the impending threat. Within the span of 24 hours, Audrey had gone from the excitement of anticipating building a life with a new love to the somberness of planning the funeral of her estranged husband. Fueled by understandable anger and grief, a distraught Audrey broke off the relationship with Jack. Already numb from the day's events, just when she didn't think there was any further cruelty life could heap on her, she received news of Jack's—staged, unbeknownst to her—death.

Upon discovering Jack had faked his death—that he was actually alive—her immediate response was not one of anger but, rather, relief. She viewed his 'return from the dead' as a second chance; an attempt to have the life together they were meant to. And make no mistake about it, as far as Audrey was concerned, she was the only woman for him.

It had taken some time – not to mention the agony (and embarrassment) of watching from the sidelines as Jack became involved with the brash surgeon who saved her father's life – but Audrey's belief the union between Jack and Sabrina DeLane was a temporary thing, just pure and simple lust (the woman was nothing more than an educated tart, in Audrey's opinion), had been proven true when the so-called 'relationship' ended.

And somewhere over the course of a year—of time apart and together and averting numerous threats to national security—Jack, to Audrey's delight, had finally come to realize what Audrey had been trying to get him to see all along: they _were_ good together. More importantly, he made her believe it was possible again.

Happiness.

# # #

"So," she hedged, "if I want to forego a honeymoon all together and just use that time for us to get settled in D.C.?"

"The move," he reminded her, "isn't definite until CTU has put a new Director of Field Ops in place." He held up his hand, offering up an apologetic smile to ward off what he knew was her forthcoming protest. "Curtis Manning isn't interested. Turns out he's got his eye on the administrative side of CTU; I believe he one day sees himself either in the role of CTU Director or a top spot over at Division."

"_Jack_…" Smoothly easing herself onto her fiancé's lap, Audrey snaked her arms around his neck, stealing a kiss before drawing back to gaze upon him as she raked her fingers through his hair. "You know if it weren't for the fact that I know your department is already short-handed, I'd start to think you're looking for reasons _not_ to vacate your role as head of Field Ops." Although she tried her best to disguise it, the attractive blonde's disappointment was evident in both her tone and body language. "You _do_ still want to return to D.C., right? Make that 'new beginning' we talked about so long ago a reality?"

"Yeah, I do. But in the end, location is irrelevant when it comes to us making a new start, sweetheart. The main thing is that we're together," he soothed. Jack lovingly stroked Audrey's cheek. "The fact is, this is what I do, Audrey. It's who I am. I thought I was ready to walk away from this part of my life all those years ago." He sighed. "We both know how wrong I turned out to be."

"Jack," Audrey began, "I told you then and I'll tell you again now, I do **not** blame you—"

"I know, I know," he nodded. "Fact is, until they can replace me, I can't go anywhere. So let's just concentrate on the things we _can_ control, like this engagement party you're planning," he groaned mockingly.

"I promise you won't have to wear a monkey suit!" she laughed. "It's not gonna be black tie; more like…business formal."

"Okay, okay," he relented. Playfully, he swatted her on the hip motioning for her to get up. "I'll leave both the party and the wedding to you." Leaning in, he placed a whisper-soft kiss on her forehead. "I'll do my part and show up, okay?""

"Works for me," she beamed. "Hey!" Her hand darted out for his. "Do I ever tell you how happy I am?"

"All the time," Jack smiled as he raised her hand to his lips. "All the time."


	4. Chapter 4

Get Here: Chapter 4

_'This must be what it feels like to lie atop a cloud…' _

Even straddled by his muscular form while lying nude and face down upon the bed, she could not help but marvel that it was positively _criminal_ how unbelievably plush the custom-built mattress was. It was not as if the bed was unfamiliar to her. On **this** particular night, however, she seemed to be experiencing it with an appreciation as never before. Then again having the best imported Moroccan oils massaged onto your flesh—from head to toe and all areas in between—_could_ tend to make you feel that way. Who was she kidding? Hell, she could be lying on a bed of nails topped with hot coals, and she would still be in heaven!

Stretching with a grace and sensuousness that was reminiscent of the tawny jungle cats she as of late found herself fascinated by reluctantly the fiery beauty raised her head from the Heirloom Silk Eiderdown pillow. The only thing that made separating her face from its 410-thread count exterior worth it was the incredibly handsome visage smiling back at her.

"Yes?" He knew she found his laugh as intoxicating as his touch, if not more so. "You have a question?"

"Is your Thea feeling okay?"

"Do you mean Sabryn?" His skilled fingers ceased their melodic mastery of her flesh and smoothly buried themselves within the mass of tousled chestnut coils that was her hair. With a firm yet gentle press, he indicated she was to resume her original position.

A nod of her head as she heeded his command, accompanied by a throaty moan in response to his fingers finding a particularly tense spot along her right shoulder blade served in lieu of a reply.

"She is _your_ Thea as well," Nikolas gently chided Gia.

Even after nearly a year of marriage, Prince Nikolas Mikhail Stavrosovich Cassadine knew the only thing his wife, the former Gia Campbell, still approached with more trepidation than her role as the Princess Cassadine was the prospect of lowering her defenses around his beloved Thea Sabrina. At times, it seemed the demands of supporting endless charities, entertaining royals and dignitaries from all over the globe, not to mention navigating the viper-infested waters that was the extended Cassadine family felt like a day at the beach when compared to dealing with his brash, outspoken Thea.

Much of Gia's hesitancy, Nikolas knew, stemmed from his deep love for his Thea. What the former model came to find surprising, however, was how fiercely that love was returned. Gia would never forget how her mouth had snapped shut when Nikolas confided in her he was fully aware, save for his immediate family, how the Cassadine family as a whole viewed him as a runner-up of sorts with regards to Sabrina's affection—and held the same belief about his younger brother Andresj' when it came to their equally beloved Thea Natasha, family council Alexis Davis Taggert.

Nothing, he assured her, could be farther from the truth.

Just as he and his brother loved their Theas equally so did they their nephews. Neither had a 'favorite'; Nikolas' role as Prince, especially in his youth, simply dictated that Alexis spend more time with him. The same held true for a young Andresj'; he and Sabrina possessed similar personalities, thus, to many their bond appeared stronger.

"Yeah, but she _loves_ you," Gia mumbled into the pillow. "Hey! Ow!" she yelped in response to Nikolas delivering a stinging slap to her behind.

"You _know_ she feels the same about you, Gia," Nikolas insisted. "She's just been a bit…distant lately."

"You think?!" Gia exclaimed, her head jerking up. "She hardly said a word at dinner last night. This morning, we _did_ manage to get "Good morning" out of her but that was it. Tonight's dinner was just a repeat of the previous evening." She turned to look back at Nikolas. "Look, I know she said she had a lot on her mind, but she needs to go ahead and handle whatever is bothering her. God knows Cassadines are hard enough to deal with, but _moody_ Cassadines are even worse!"

"_Gia_…" His voice held the faintest hint of warning, but it was soon lost amid the laughter that ensued as Gia playfully began to thrust her behind up to meet what was now Nikolas' straining erection. Smoothly he shifted his weight and with the greatest of east flipped the taunting temptress onto her back. "What am I going to do with you?" he chuckled. Of their own volition his hands began to glide along her torso, even as he slowly, sinuously began to stretch out his body along the length of hers. Cupping her breasts, his gaze began to darken as he rolled their pebbled peaks between his thumb and index fingers.

"You keep doing that, and don't worry, I'll show you," she purred, arching into his touch. Parting her thighs, she draped a shapely leg about his waist. "I will _gladly_ show you."

# # # # #

The rush of a shakily held breath being expelled was the only sound that could be heard in the suite. A perfectly manicured hand's thumb hovered above the "End" button on the phone's display screen as the call's connection blared forth. There was still time to end the call.

"Hello?"

Or maybe not.

"Hi…hi," the caller finally managed. "I am not calling at a bad time, am I?"

"Nonsense." The woman's voice held a melodic quality that seemed to deepen, as if she were smiling when she spoke her next words. "There is never—_ever_—such a thing where you are concerned." She could not be certain, but she would wager the substantial family fortune the party on the other end was now smiling.

"How are you?"

"I am well and cannot complain." A pause ensued; a deliberate attempt by the woman to smooth the sharp edge of concern threatening to lace her next words. "And you? I hope the same is true."

"Like you…I…cannot complain."

"That was _not_ an answer…"

"Know what," she forced a laugh, "you are not going to believe this, but I just looked at the time and didn't realize how late it is. Again, I am sorry for calling so late. I just needed," she quickly corrected herself, "I mean, _wanted_ to talk to you for a few minutes. To see how you were."

"_Cher_…" There was now no mistaking the warning which vibrated through the lone endearment just uttered. "**Enough**." With that simple edict, however fractured or complex their relationship might have been, Celeste Perrault knew her _child_ knew her well enough to comply.

"I am okay, Mama," Sabrina sighed. "_Really_." Her voice trembled; she did not expect hearing her mother's voice would affect her so. Stunned by the wave of emotion overtaking her, fighting back tears, Sabrina clenched the small smart phone so tightly she feared for a moment she would break it. "I…I have to go now. But we _will_ talk again soon. I promise. Good night."

**[A/N: Casting for Gia Cassadine in my fanfic universe is Andrea Pearson (the 2nd Gia on GH)-Pam]**


	5. Chapter 5

Get Here: Chapter 5

"Miss Sabrina?" A voice bearing the slightest trace of an accent interrupted softly. "We will be landing shortly."

Slowly tearing her gaze away from the view, Sabrina absently nodded her thanks. When the handsome, impeccably attired sentry maintained his presence, she finally spoke. "Yes, Anton?"

"If I may?" He nodded discreetly towards her lap upon which multiple medical journals (several in foreign tongues) as well as a nearly two inch thick tome on the history of Neuroscience were perched. "I do believe it may prove most…difficult to secure your seatbelt if you still harbor these on your person." With an economy of motion he retrieved all the reading material.

"Thank you." Offering a soft smile, she then complied with his subtle instructions. A curt nod of his head and he was gone.

Grateful for the solitude once more, Sabrina mentally kicked herself. Cruising at 30,000 feet within the luxurious confines of the sleek Gulfstream was not necessary for her head to be in the clouds—it had been there since finding out Jack was going to marry Audrey. An observation which she found disconcerting given her world in no way had come to a complete standstill when she ended things with Jack.

True, there was the requisite initial period of 'sadness' but as with any and all unpleasant events in life, she pressed on. Did she get lonely? Hell yes. But those moments were few and fleeting; her family and small circle of friends more than compensated for those instances. In short, _life went on_. Once the initial shock and pain wore off, her attention was fully focused on her two greatest passions: her family and her work. The latter was an area which she seemingly attacked with an almost renewed zeal in the wake of the breakup. Rare were the occasions an O.R. door swung open at the hospital and she was not the surgeon helming the procedure. General Hospital was where she would currently be if not for her unplanned excursion.

(Sabrina did **not** look forward to what the very skilled and extremely ambitious new hot-shot surgeon Patrick Drake would request as 'payment' for agreeing to her last-minute request to cover her O.R. schedule; she had a sinking feeling it involved two words that had the power to turn even the most imperturbable of surgeons into a swooning, trembling schoolgirl being felt up for the first time: co-joined twins.)

It was an accurate assessment to conclude Sabrina's work was not suffering. Neither was her sex life. Granted, she was the reigning queen of solo satisfaction. By choice. If she wanted a man to share her bed that could easily be remedied. While her philosophy was off putting to some – Sabrina liked men and made no apologies when it came to either her appetite for or appreciation of them – in true Cassadine fashion, she did not give so much as a cursory thought to the opinions of others, only to her wants. And as was befitting a Cassadine, she wanted only the best life had to offer.

She saw no reason that should not apply to the bedroom as well.

If she wanted 'the best' as of late, Sabrina knew all she had to do was pick up the phone and either rub her silk stocking clad legs together, or snap the band on the scant scrap of silk adorning her hips and – depending on his location in the world at the time – upon bearing witness to said sounds within anywhere from one hour to one day she could be taking the ride of her life on (and beneath) the guaranteed good time that was WSB Agent Jericho "Jerry" Jacks.

As he was so fond of reminding her, simply put Sabrina and Jerry were the poster children for fuck buddies. They'd not seen each other in almost two years; and while theirs was sexual shorthand that did not take long to resume, she was not inclined to indulge in that which was so very familiar. Even before she ended things with Jack, she'd begun to feel that 'just sex' was not enough. Yet a serious relationship was too much. So, she found a…happy medium.

'Mr. Happy.'

As far as Sabrina was concerned, her battery operated friend (the perfect blend of girth and length) got the job done—and quite well. How well? Molded from a most substantial column of flesh, replete with an impressive ridged head and all too lifelike veins, her 'new best friend' was _so_ realistic the first few times she had to remind herself what she held in her hand was a dildo and not the real deal…

The voice of the captain announcing the jet would begin making its descent served to bring Sabrina's randy thoughts to a screeching halt and return her to her earlier pensive mood. For the past few days she'd found herself giving serious pause to exactly what direction she saw her life taking—and if she envisioned herself making the journey with anyone or alone. So engrossed in her moment of self-reflection as she stared blindly out the window, Sabrina had not even noticed the darkening of the skies.

She could not help but think it was a sign of things to come.

**[A/N: Casting for Jerry Jacks - Russell Crowe (**_**Gladiator**_**; **_**A Beautiful Mind**_**; **_**American Gangster)-**_**Pam]**


	6. Chapter 6

Get Here: Chapter 6

With its lush, impeccably manicured grounds, abundance of scented foliage, all set against classic Antebellum architecture, the sprawling estate was very much a reflection of the woman who resided there: beautiful, mysterious, _commanding_.

Celeste Perrault, the Mistress of Maison Blanche, was all those things and so very much more. Muse. Bon vivant. Confidant. Seer. Lover. Mother.

Of all her incarnations, the last was the role she cherished most. However, as with most things in the alluring beauty's life, her relationship with her headstrong, defiant eldest daughter was complex, painfully so. This was no doubt due to the circumstances surrounding her childhood: raised by her father, Sabrina grew up unaware of her younger sister Viktoria's existence; the truth being revealed upon Sabrina's graduation from medical school. The event marked not only the beginning of Sabrina's self-imposed separation from the Cassadines but also the first time mother and child were face to face since Celeste's exit from her life at age five. While Celeste's relationship with Sabrina had proven to be a delicate if erratic work in progress on most occasions, any pain it caused her was overshadowed by the joy she took in watching the bond form and eventually deepen between her daughters; no easy feat, given the temperaments of both women were quite similar.

But the ultimate study in joy and pain and Celeste's most difficult relationship was the one she had shared for the past 30-plus years with her children's father—Viktor Cassadine.

Far more complicated than her relationship with Sabrina, or even that between her daughters, Celeste's union with Viktor was a constant source of discord with her daughters; Viktoria's hatred for her father ran as deeply as Sabrina's love for him. Even more frustrating for the sisters, particularly Sabrina, was their mother's absolute refusal to confirm or deny details regarding her banishment from her eldest daughter's life prior to their reuniting.

Celeste's position was unwavering. For her children she would do and endure anything. But her relationship with Viktor was off-limits and just that, she did not hesitate to remind her daughters—_her_ relationship.

"She will come to you."

As if on cue, the voice on the other end of the phone line cut through the haze of thoughts that had rattled the tawny beauty's nerves for the past two days since she had received the unexpected call from her eldest child.

Five simple words, yet they somehow managed to infuriate the concerned woman to no end. Much like the man uttering them oftentimes did.

"Did you hear me, my love?" Viktor Cassadine was resolute. "She will come to you."

"You did not hear her the other night, cher," Celeste worried. "She sounded so…lost."

"Which is why I say for a _third_ time," he laughed, "she will come to you."

"I wish I was as confident as you, Viktor." Celeste paced about her salon, her slender fingers lightly fluttering about her throat. Skepticism was not a feeling the normally unflappable woman tolerated well. "I also wish you'd have let me take the jet…" she added pointedly.

"Hang up the phone, Celeste, and try to relax. I know my daughter…"

"And _I_ would be able to say the same if you had been more—"

"I am going to attribute your snide comment to anxiety," Viktor interrupted. "But do not worry, my love, should the condition persist I will gladly correct it." His voice was even. "As I was trying to reassure you before you allowed your nerves to get the better of you," he noted, "Sabryn may be impulsive, but rest assured her call to you was not random. There was a purpose. Trust me. You will see."

"You're right," Celeste said softly.

"Is that all you have to say?" Viktor's tone was at its most imperious.

"Goodness, cher. Where are my manners? _Goodbye_."

*click*

For the first time in the last 48 hours, Celeste genuinely laughed. She was so caught up in her amusement imagining Viktor's shocked reaction she did not hear her butler enter the room. At the sound of his voice she spun around…and found it was her turn to be surprised.

"Hello, Mama." Sabrina managed a small, nervous smile. "I _told_ you we would talk again soon."

"_Cher_." The endearment fell from Celeste's lips, tinged with wonder. "Welcome, to my home. Please," she extended a bejeweled hand as she closed the distance between them, "come in."

As she watched Sabrina accept her proffered hand and follow her inside, Celeste exhaled a breath she'd not realized she was holding.

**[A/N: With the exception of residing at Maison Blanche, Celeste's history from **_**Days of Our Lives**_** does ****not**** apply in this universe. Casting for Viktor Cassadine - Andy Luchesi, model for Tommy Bahama (Google him; he is **_**quite**_** striking!)-Pam]**


	7. Chapter 7

**[A/N: Kick back and get comfortable. This installment's pretty lengthy...-Pam]**

Get Here: Chapter 7

With a curious yet reserved eye, Sabrina took in her surroundings.

Before being called away by her butler Xavier, Celeste had promised her a "grand tour" of the magnificent yet eclectic dwelling that was Maison Blanche. As inquisitive as she was impatient, Sabrina, naturally, had set about exploring the mammoth manor on her own. What she discovered surprised her. From the music room which housed not only her mother's collection of sheet music, but an incredibly diverse assembly of recordings, arranged not by name, but by genre; to the array of plush chaise lounges arranged at various locations in the mansion's solarium, as if to provide an area for the room's mistress to drape her form upon at any given moment should the urge to do so strike her. It was evident while replete with the requisite elegant furnishings, works of art, and untold antiques as befitted a mansion, the estate no doubt reflected touches of her mother's personality.

A small part of the normally fearless young woman wondered if she could withstand any further glimpses into her estranged mother's predilections; for they reflected a temperament that was far too reminiscent of her own. The little she had already beheld of her mother's home was serving to rock what was already a somewhat unsteady foundation she teetered upon. If Sabrina had any doubt whether it was so, the room she soon found herself occupying confirmed it.

With each slow, almost painstaking step she took her hands likewise lingered upon the spine of book after book; many leather-bound, an impressive amount of them first editions. Despite her promise to keep her emotions in check, to remain focused, Sabrina instead gave in to the pull to surrender herself to what was always her intrinsic response whenever she found herself in a magnificent library. True, her mother's reading room did not match either the scope of opulence of the Cassadine libraries (neither the ones at Wyndemere nor those of the ancestral home in Greece); but as was such with those sanctuaries it did exude the sense of both comfort and strength Sabrina always associated with the rooms.

Eyes closed, a serene smile etched upon her face, she allowed her head to fall back and dark tresses cascading past her shoulders, almost tickling the small of her back, she inhaled the almost musty-sweet scent of the tomes surrounding her. If she allowed the memory to linger long enough, she was once again a little girl among the throng of books in the ancestral home's library in Greece; she was around four years of age, no more than five. Definitely not past her fifth year of childhood; that was when her world changed forever...

From the just inside the doorway, Celeste watched the moment unfold as if an exquisite ballet; lyrically beautiful move after move executed until a too-sharp turn resulted in a painful misstep. She knew the exact moment when the shift occurred for her child; saw the fluttering across her face of a flash of a pain she had—after all these years—still not learned how to process. The agony was almost immediately replaced by an almost detached acceptance it seemed as she watched the beautiful, unrevealing mask fall into place. Celeste recognized the act and knew instantly among whom her eldest had honed the art of masking her emotions.

The Cassadines.

It was a talent Celeste was all too-familiar with, as she was every bit the master of the form as was her love, Viktor; many were the times the two had waged battle over either's refusal to, if only for a moment, allow transparency to exist between them—and not have the act wielded as a weapon. Sabrina had no doubt, Celeste was certain, borne witness to her father's ability to disguise his emotions; but the tawny beauty knew to her core that her first-born's mastery of the skill was courtesy of the man she for better or worse had positioned as a guiding force in Sabrina's life—Stefan.

Refusing to allow her thoughts to dwell among the tangled, thorny memories of the past, of life among a family whose progeny had given her both moments of great agony and joy, Celeste instead drew strength from her present joy; a moment she quite honestly had not expected to experience any time soon. Her eldest child, of her own volition, in her home.

"There you are! I thought," Celeste drawled as she crossed the library's threshold, "we might take our tea in here." Her languorous delivery of the line had been deliberate, an attempt to give her proud child enough time compose herself; to once again resurrect that 3" thick glass she seemed determined to keep between them at most times.

"That's…that's great," Sabrina nodded as she turned to face Celeste. Mask firmly in place, she took a seat in the nearby high-back leather chair as directed.

"Sorry, I took so long." With a grace so effortless one would swear it had to have been practiced religiously to perfect, she set the tray on the low table, settling her slim form on the nearby settee.

"Is…is everything okay?" Sabrina asked as she accepted the steaming cup of comfort.

"Yes, yes, cher." A dismissive wave of Celeste's free hand indicated the matter that required her attention earlier was of no great importance. "Go on, drink your tea."

Sabrina took a small sip. Moments later her eyes widened as she proclaimed, "Peppermint!"

"It was your favorite…" Celeste began softly.

"When I was little," Sabrina finished, averting her surprisingly shy gaze from that of her mother. "You…remembered?" Sabrina could not prevent the wonder that laced the query if her very life had depended upon it. Immediately, her lovely features flushed with shame as she realized how careless her comment was. "That did not come across the way it was meant to. What I meant was… I mean, I **know** you would remember. I just…"

"No need to apologize, cher," Celeste responded, a loving smile adorning her features. "I understand. Trust me, I _do_." A lifetime of masking pain where loving a Cassadine was concerned concealed the damage the blow, unintentional though it was, had inflicted.

If Celeste's gracious words were designed to comfort her daughter, they were having the complete opposite effect. Her sincerity was evident yet Sabrina could not bring herself to accept it—her guilt refused to let her. Sabrina fell silent, her attention suddenly drawn to the amber liquid at the bottom of the fine china cup she held. She forced herself to breathe slowly and deeply; something akin to a panic attack seemed to be swelling within. It was as if a flood of emotion was struggling to burst forth; the harder she tried to quell it, the stronger it became.

"When I went to look for you," Celeste's soothing voice broke the silence, "the first place I checked was the Conservatory. You always loved the sun." Her voice was distant, as if recalling a memory from long ago, yet the warmth was still evident. "When you were not there, I went to my music room next. When _that_ room was empty," she gave a soft laugh, "I realized then that I should have set out for my original destination. Your favorite place when you were a child."

"The library," Sabrina replied shakily.

"Yes. You have always loved books, since you were old enough to hold one in your little hands." Celeste reached forth and placed her hand atop Sabrina's, effectively stilling the ever so slight tremble that threatened to send the fine dishware's contents spilling forth. "And _I_ always loved that you did. I knew because of that thirst, that curiosity, your mind would stay sharp; you would never be able to be discounted as just a "pretty little thing." I wanted to make sure you knew how important words were; that words were knowledge—"

"And knowledge makes you strong," Sabrina finished.

"That's right," Celeste beamed. Her heart swelled so at that moment she felt it surely would burst. "Do you remember what I used to read to you when you were little?"

"Yes" Sabrina nodded, "_The Odyssey_. It is still my favorite book to this day," she whispered, her eyes glistening.

"Shh…shh, Sabrina. Do not cry," Celeste soothed. "_Talk to me_, cher," she implored. "Tell me what is the matter."

Smoothing away the tears, Celeste could feel the fissures begin to form in her own heart. Her daughter was hurting and it seemed there was not a damn thing she could do! As she swept a thumb across her child's cheek, Celeste realized Sabrina's current state went deeper than their issues as mother and daughter. She knew what that reaction felt like; especially when Sabrina was in pain. Or angry. Whichever emotion ruled at the time, it wafted off her child in waves when she was consumed by it.

No, this was a pain of a different sort.

As she beheld the turmoil behind her daughter's gaze, realization began to dawn; when its full comprehension washed over her Celeste's breath caught in her throat. _She knew that look_. All too well. What she saw was not a conflict between parent and child.

This was an issue between lovers.

# # # # #

"Tell me about him," Celeste prodded.

Gently, she smoothed away the wisps of hair framing Sabrina's tear streaked face. Even as she offered comfort, Celeste braced herself for the fallout. Her child was as proud as she was guarded, and fully aware she had committed an error of grave proportions by laying herself bare—and before her mother, of all people. Quietly she watched the play of emotions dancing across Sabrina's face. Watched as vulnerability and need dueled with pride and fear…and the former lose.

"What in the world," Sabrina snapped, "makes you think this has to do with a man?" Jerking away from her mother's touch, she angrily sprang to her feet, wiping away her tears in kind.

"Ton, petite fille."_[Tone, little girl.]_ Celeste leveled a withering gaze at her eldest child. "_Ton_." _[_**_Tone_**_.]_ A curt but graceful nod of her head towards the vacant chair indicated Sabrina was to return to its confines. Now.

"Fine," Sabrina bit out. Her sullen gaze locked with her mother's, Sabrina quickly deduced the idiocy of challenging the woman before her and complied with her silent command. "But I don't want to talk about it."

"Lie to yourself if you must." Celeste leaned in and firmly cradled Sabrina's chin within her fingers. "But do **not** lie to me." Her voice softening, she added, "You did not come all this way to throw a temper tantrum, cher. So, again, I say…tell me about him."

"How do you know…?"

"_Please_, cher," Celeste scoffed. "I am your mother. I may not have raised you, Sabrina DeLane Cassadine, but I **know** you. The two most important things to you are family and your work. The latter is a benign enough subject, one you have no problem opening up about or discussing; so if this were _about_ work, you would have led off with that. Now family? _That_ is a bit more delicate."

Settling back among the plush cushions of the sofa, Celeste crossed her legs. "Now if the source of your pain were tied to Natasha, or my nephews, Nikolas or Andresj? That, with me you would discuss. The same with regards to their mother, Faith. You have no problem 'sharing' any of them with me. However, if this somehow involved Stefan or your Papa?" Celeste made a moue of displeasure as she gave a resolute shake of her head. "There is no way you would be here. They occupy a part of your life—your Papa especially—you are _not_ ready to share with me."

Celeste held up a hand to ward off Sabrina's forthcoming protests. "My child, you are as loyal to and protective of them both as your sister Viktoria is with me. And I accept that." She allowed the statement to linger. "For now." A graceful wave of a slender finger stilled yet another objection. "Thus, that leaves your love life. Besides, cher, woman to woman?" A knowing smile upon her lips Celeste proclaimed, "I have been alive longer than you and _lived_ more than you, so I **know** the telltale signs of heartache."

"I don't know if it's heartache," Sabrina said softly. The admission was followed by a rude noise. "But it sure as hell is…something."

"Well, _whatever_ it is, you can't fix it until you address it." Celeste clapped her hands as she rose from the sofa. "I'll have Xavier prepare us a light supper," she tossed over her shoulder. "We'll talk. And then you can get some rest. Do not worry. I will make sure he has everything to your liking."

"My liking?" Sabrina repeated. Slowly, she turned to face her mother.

"Yes. I'll have him prepare a room for you," she smiled.

"Oh…Mama. I'm sorry. I won't be able to stay." As she watched the smile begin to falter upon her mother's visage, Sabrina rose to her feet and hastened to qualify her statement. "I have a case tomorrow morning; a procedure no other surgeon can perform, save me. If not for that, I assure you, I would remain here. I mean, overnight." Her smile was contrite as she clasped her mother's hand. "I look forward to a return visit." Sabrina paused. "If…you will have me, I mean?"

"Always, Monkeyness," Celeste murmured. She nodded as she beheld the surprise register in Sabrina's eyes upon hearing the nickname she bestowed upon her as a child. Lovingly, she brushed the back of her hand against Sabrina's cheek. "My home, as is all that I have, cher, is yours."

"Well," Sabrina returned the smile weakly, "here's hoping next time I'll have my shit together…"

"Sabrina!"

"Oh, Mama!" she gasped, hand darting her mouth. "I am so sorry!"

"As you _should_ be!" Celeste chastised. "Yes, you are a Cassadine. But never forget, you are also a _Perrault_." Sabrina did not see the sly smile beginning to curve the corners of her mother's mouth. "We **always** have our shit together!" she winked.

Celeste's relief upon witnessing her daughter's laughter was short-lived for moments later Sabrina's lips began to purse and her eyes shimmer with unshed tears. Following her child's watery gaze across the room to the display of photographs, she could only offer up a resigned sigh as she beheld the reason for Sabrina's sudden change in mood.

"Those are from your Papa," she explained. "He made sure I got to see you…one way or another. Come."

Taking Sabrina by the hand, Celeste led her to the bookcase, directing her attention to a shelf upon which two Victorian styled filigree picture frames were perched and nothing else. The smaller of the two frames contained a 5" x 7" photo of a laughing, barefoot Sabrina on the shore of the Cassadine's private beach in Greece, the surf of the Aegean swirling about her ankles.

"That was taken on your seventh birthday."

The second photo, a stunning 8" x 10" black and white, was more somber; a candid profile shot of Sabrina, her gaze seemingly miles away, set against dark skies. "And this one, I believe you were around 20, not quite 21? My first thought when I saw this photo, of course, was how beautiful you were." She studied Sabrina pensively, a sad smile easing its way across her visage. "My second thought? That you were far, far too young to look so serious. You had just returned to Greece, after your divorce from Julian, correct?" Try though she might, Celeste could not prevent the edge to her voice when she spoke of her daughter's brief marriage to her Cassdine first cousin, Julian Luna.

"You knew about my marriage?" A stunned Sabrina nearly dropped the photo.

"Yes." Smoothly retrieving the photo from Sabrina's near lifeless fingers, Celeste smiled tightly. "Let us just say, it was but one of…many…matters concerning you your Papa and I disagreed about. Vehemently."

Eyes closed, Sabrina willed herself to remain calm. There it was again; that feeling of…something similar to anxiety but so very different. Anxiety didn't hurt. And, oh, how this did! This was a pain that ripped at her very soul it seemed. She felt the tears begin to well anew, but unlike before there was no slow trickle; this was more like an overflow.

As if a dam of some sort inside her had burst.

# # # # #

"Sabrina…cher?" Celeste's voice was fraught with worry. "_What is wrong_?" she whispered, cupping her face.

"I…see you…this…," she shook her head, motioning to the photos, "and I can't deny it if I wanted to."

"Deny _what_, cher?"

"You still love him, Mama!" she blurted out. Her breaths were ragged as they were expelled in between strangled sobs. "And…and I know Papa still loves you…no matter… No matter how much you've hurt each other! But the two of you…" She shook her head, her despair almost a living thing. "Why can't you work it out?"

In that moment, Celeste saw past the accomplished, confident 30-something woman before her; what reflected back to her was a child—hers and Viktor's—longing for the comfort of old, the world she once inhabited where, surrounded by the love of her Mama and Papa, in the bosom of her family, _everything_ was alright. Because their love, for each other and her, made it so.

"What have I always told you and your sister about my relationship with your Papa, cher?"

"That the relationship between you and Papa was just that—between you and Papa."

"That's still true. Do you know what else is also true?" She didn't wait for an answer. "That impassioned declaration you just made? That wasn't about your Papa and me, cher. I have no need for you to declare what I already know; what your Papa and I _both_ know. Yes, we love each other. We never stopped. **We. Never. Will.** What you're feeling now?" Celeste posed softly. Gently she raised Sabrina's watery gaze to meet hers. "This is about _you_. This is about you and the man you were involved with, cher. The agent, Bauer? You loved him?"

Sabrina, her eyes fluttering closed, could only nod her head.

"Look at me, cher," Celeste commanded. She waited until Sabrina complied before she spoke again. "And you _still_ do, no?"

"Yes."

"Then the answer is simple, don't you see, cher?" Celeste beamed. "_Go and be with him_, cher! Go to him."

"It's not that simple. You don't understand. What he wants…from me…I can't give."

"Yes, you can," she countered. "You're just afraid to." Her own gaze now glistening with unshed tears, Celeste smoothed an errant lock of hair behind her daughter's ear. "I know what you are feeling, cher. I have lived it. I _am_ living it. And as great as the pain has been at times, I honestly cannot imagine my life with anyone else but your Papa. So I tell you again, if you love this man as much as I believe you to, go to him."

"But what if it's too late?"

"It is never too late, Little One."

From the doorway, Viktor Cassadine's commanding gaze washed over his eldest daughter.

Instantly, Sabrina straightened her posture; her hands, as if by reflex, darting to her eyes to dry the tears.

Viktor did not miss the look of unbridled censure his life's love, Celeste, leveled at him as she beheld their child's reaction to his presence. And for the second time that day, the tawny beauty found herself stunned as she watched her love—her _ma cher_—extend his hand to their child then draw her near and engulf her in his embrace. A few moments later, he offered his hand to Celeste, beckoning her to join them. As he held within his embrace two of the three most important women in his life, Viktor's gaze was unwavering as it came to rest upon the portrait of the third; his youngest child, Viktoria "Tori" Perrault.

"_Never_."

# # #

_Later…_

"Is my Little One alright?"

Viktor's smooth, cultured voice sounded almost melodic against the backdrop of the faint breeze accompanying the softly falling rain as it rustled the leaves of the mammoth oak trees outside Celeste's boudoir.

It was a simple question, yet concern fairly vibrated from every area of the difficult Patriarch's body it seemed. Without even realizing it, his embrace of Celeste's sated form—already rather tight—became even more constricting upon posing the query.

Still weary from their second round of passionate lovemaking and fully aware her love was in no way done making her "pay" for her earlier defiance (when she abruptly ended their call), with great effort Celeste turned in Viktor's embrace. Immediately her trim yet shapely form began to shiver; tiny pebbles began to pepper her back which for the better part of the past quarter hour or so had indulged in the warmth generated by the press of Viktor's body against the café au lait expanse.

"She is having a difficult time right now," Celeste admitted. "Romantically," she clarified. Expelling a satisfied sigh, she nestled her body closer to his.

"I was not aware she was involved with anyone."

"She wasn't 'involved,' cher. She was in love. Still is. They broke up. The trouble is she finally accepted the fact that she still loves him after he committed himself to another."

"If it is the government agent she was seeing then it is no doubt for the best," Viktor scoffed. "I will talk to her. She will see that what she is experiencing is fleeting."

Slowly, Celeste extracted herself from Viktor's embrace and sat up. At that moment she was very much like a tawny jungle cat in predator mode. The only light in the room was courtesy of the faint slivers of moonlight filtering in through the draperies. Yet, she had no doubt Viktor could bear witness to her heated gaze.

"Viktor? **No**." Neither Celeste's tone nor her flint-like gaze brooked room for argument. "Stay out of it."

"As you wish," he sighed.

As he reached out to draw her body down to his, Celeste did not miss the small seductive smile playing about her lover's mouth. She knew how he so loved when she sought to engage him in battle. But she was in no way fooled by her lover's silence, nor the smooth caresses he trailed along her body as he lowered her mouth to his. Seconds later, her body was beneath his as Viktor deftly flipped Celeste onto her back. With the greatest of ease he was nudging her thighs apart and settling his body atop hers.

"Oh, no…don't you _dare_ try and placate me, Viktor!" Her slender fingers twined within his hair, she none-too-gently palmed a fistful of silver-peppered locks. "Have you learned _nothing_ from our example, cher? Have you?" Her voice softened as she held his gaze. "We both know all too well what happens when you allow family to influence a relationship."

Celeste did not regret her words, but she knew the moment they fell from her lips a stark shift in mood would ensue. The tension in her lover's body was matched by the terse delivery of his next words.

"You will _never_ forgive me for that, will you?"

"Oh, cher." The naked pain in Viktor's voice was nearly Celeste's undoing. "Can it be, that after all this time you still do not know me as well as you believe yourself to?"

Her gaze softened as with her free hand she cupped his right cheek while she gingerly allowed the other to release his locks then begin an agonizingly slow descent along the planes of his left cheek. Fingers trembling she lowered his face to hers, her breath nearly stilled in the wake of his now molten gaze.

"I forgave you long ago, _ma cher_," she whispered. A feather-light brush of her lips against his followed. Whether or not they softened her next words was difficult to tell. Truth tended to be impervious to such attempts. "I just have not forgotten."

**[A/N: Although a vampire on the series **_**Kindred: The Embraced**_**, such is ****not**** the case for the character of Julian Luna (played by (the late) Mark Frankel) in this universe. Casting for Viktoria "Tori" Perrault - Halle Berry (CBS'**_** Extant**_**; **_**Die Another Day**_**; **_**Monster's Ball**_**-Pam)**


	8. Chapter 8

Get Here: Chapter 8

Of all the myriad decisions that remained for her to make regarding her upcoming big day – how she would style her hair; what gifts she would get her attendants; would she change clothes during the reception or remain in her wedding dress – this, Audrey mused, was one that required little if any effort. The location that would be used for the wedding reception was also the same venue where she wanted to host the impromptu engagement party. Perhaps it seemed a bit backwards to hold such an event and then several weeks later exchange wedding vows, but Audrey viewed the arrival of this moment—marrying Jack—as both hard-fought and long overdue and firmly believed it warranted celebration, even if it was superfluous.

"So…I was thinking about a Friday—early evening, around six o'clock or so?" Phone cradled against her ear, amid the comfort of pastels and floral prints which dominated her bedroom, with the fleeting rays of the setting sun bathing her lounging form in their warmth, Audrey cast a scrutinizing gaze at her feet propped against the windowsill; a reminder to get a pedicure sometime during the week was added to the already considerable notations scrawled in the margins of the steno tablet's list of "to do" items which required her attention. "I'm going to book the Lancaster."

"The same estate where CTU held the reception honoring Ambassador Flynn?"

"Yep. One in the same," she grinned. "That was a _really_ good night for us, Jack. Don't you agree?" Audrey's voice took on a breathy quality and her cheeks began to flush slightly. "You remember, don't you?"

"Yeah…yeah it was." Jack could not help but nod his head; smiling in response to his fiancée's sudden change in mood. "And, uh, yeah…I do."

# # # # #

_"Oh…my…God, Jack… Yes!" _

_His strokes slow and measured, with the most gentle of touches, Jack swept the wisps of hair from his lover's brow as he gazed down at her. In possession of keen features which at times neither the camera nor lighting were always forgiving of, at that moment—eyes closed, her lips parted while expelling a shaky breath—as the final vestiges of Audrey's orgasm washed over her she was positively beautiful. _

_Tonight was a rarity when it came to lovemaking with the normally buttoned-down government advisor. She had actually relaxed and let herself go. While he was an incredibly skilled lover, Jack knew he could make no claims as to being the reason for his lover's sudden newfound sense abandon – and dare he say confidence – in the bedroom. For that, he—and Audrey—had his _former_ lover to thank. _

_**Sabrina**_.

_The moment Jack found out she would be attending the evening's CTU-sponsored gala honoring the renowned Ambassador, he had mentally begun to prepare himself for an evening of indulging Audrey in hand-holding, light touches, and reassuring glances; any and everything needed to encourage his current lover she had nothing to worry about with regards to his ex. Any nerves he suspected Audrey to have been harboring about him coming face to face with Sabrina for the first time since their split never surfaced. Save for the brief but obligatory (and unerringly polite) exchange of greetings, the headstrong surgeon kept her distance for the entire evening, choosing instead to delight in the company of her "plus-one," her nephew, Andresj. _

_Although both Jack and Audrey drew starkly different conclusions when it came to Sabrina's behavior – Audrey believed it to be all for Jack's benefit, a convincing performance, but in the end an act just the same; Jack grudgingly accepted his ex's demeanor for exactly what it was, a determined attempt to move on with her life – they shared a common reaction to it. _

**_Satisfaction._**

_For Audrey, the feeling was rooted in triumph; as was evidenced by the look she sailed Sabrina's way as she possessively linked her arm in Jack's when they exited the ballroom. What she could not verbalize she made sure her gaze crowed loudly and clearly: 'Yes, he may be looking at you…but he's _**_leaving_**_ with _**_me_**_!'_

_The basis of Jack's emotion was entirely different. Sabrina's presence, more importantly, her choice of companion resonated deeply with him. The man whose arm she was on was not a former lover or her ex-husband. To be accompanied by either Jerry Jacks or Julian Luna, respectively, were choices Jack knew __she__ knew would elicit a reaction from him, however futile or fleeting. No, out of all the men she could have shown up with she had chosen family. _

_'Yeah, you're moving on. But you haven't found anyone. Because you're not ready.' _

_And so it was as his body tensed, his hips beginning to pump furiously as he barreled towards blessed completion, Jack blindly buried himself in one woman while silently asking forgiveness for allowing his mind – however briefly – to drift to thoughts of another. _

_'Tonight, Bri, your bed is as it should be…_**_empty_**_.' _

_It was a position of which Jack was neither proud nor ashamed. It simply __**was**__. Many would argue his stance was unfair; those opinions mattered not. His position, however unpopular, was truth. _

_And one he had no trouble living with. _

_# # #_

His thoughts returning to the present, Jack once again reminded himself that part of his life was behind him.

"Jack? Jack?"

"What? I'm sorry, Audrey. What did you say?"

"I said I'll see you later tonight? You're coming over for dinner?"

Jack glanced at his watch then at the nearly 2" thick stack of files awaiting review still on his desk. It was almost 7 p.m. If he were still in D.C. in his role as Heller's DOD assistant, his workday would've ended nearly two and a half hours earlier. The workday at CTU generally had no designated end, even when the staff was not in crisis mode which was currently the case.

"No, sweetheart. I'm gonna take a pass on dinner tonight. I've still got reviews to finish up here at CTU, and they may take awhile."

"Bring them with you," she suggested. "I promise I'll keep my hands to myself while you're trying to work…"

"I appreciate the offer, but I really need to get this taken care of. Besides," he added, hoping to ease her disappointment, "we both know you'll take every chance you can get to distract me, Audrey."

"Guilty as charged," she laughed. "Promise me you won't stay too long…and what you don't finish there you won't stay up too late at home working on?"

"You know me well. I promise," he smiled. "See you tomorrow."

"I love you."

"I love you, too, Audrey."

Long after the call ended, Jack found himself deep in thought. The work on his desk was not terribly pressing and in all truth could keep until the next day; his decision to forego spending the night at Audrey's was not so much a nod to his dedication to his work as it was a desire for solitude. As of late, he had a need to have a bit of space just to himself. It wasn't a case of "nerves" or "cold feet" regarding his pending nuptials. No, rather, he wanted to savor the simple act of being alone with his thoughts.

Jack knew if Audrey was around, that would not be possible—nor would it be prudent if his thoughts were to drift, as they'd just done, to times past with Sabrina.

He did not analyze why his former lover was crossing his mind as of late; he simply attributed it to an inevitable occurrence. He was about to start a new life with Audrey; it was perfectly natural to think of his old loves. There was just one problem. None of the former loves that _should_ have crossed his mind—his late wife, Terri; even his widowed sister-in-law, Marilyn—did. Only Sabrina. Jack told himself it had more to do with the passage of time; between the two former relationships, nearly 20 years had passed, whereas the latter had occurred and dissolved within the span of less than two years. The end result, no matter how uncomfortable, was a truth he resolved he had to come to terms with.

Sabrina's life, and who was in it, was no longer his concern.


	9. Chapter 9

**[A/N: Um, get **_**really**_** comfortable. You're gonna be here for a bit... *g*-Pam]**

Get Here: Chapter 9

Only the combination of cat-like reflexes and years of experience navigating the oftentimes congested halls as a team was being deployed kept the handsome, dark haired sentinel from being doused with the scalding cup of coffee he carried as he sought to end his phone call.

"…well, you just take it easy like the doctor told you." Tony Almeida gave a longsuffering sigh as he neared his work area. No sooner had he taken a seat at his desk than a shadow fell across the table. Nodding, he pointed the party towards the nearby chair. "Michelle, yes, I will _personally_ make sure I get it from Audrey or Jack, Sweetheart," he promised for the umpteenth time as he ended the call.

"Tell Michelle not to worry. I'll check with Audrey about how soon she plans to have the invitations delivered." It was fairly easy to deduce the nature of his friend and colleague's conversation with his very insistent wife as nearly every other word out of Tony's mouth whenever he spoke to his wife of late was either "wedding" or "invitation." "I still have a lot more," Jack slid the CTU-embossed jackets across Tony's desk, "but here are the reports from the last mission, along with the data Chloe was able to compile on the latest target. Figured I'd drop 'em off on my way out."

"I swear, if Michelle isn't careful, all the fuss she's making over the wedding is gonna send her into labor…and she's only just ending her fifth month!" he laughed.

"Well, I hate to get her hopes up or anything," Jack hedged, "but if she's expecting some kind of lavish ceremony, I'm afraid she's gonna be pretty disappointed. This will be pretty low key as far as I can tell; me, Audrey, a maid of honor, a best man, and that's it."

Idly Tony perused a folder's contents as Jack spoke. Eventually his gaze drifted to his watch; seconds later, brow arched in curiosity, it swung back to Jack. "Yeah, speaking of Audrey—you know, the woman you're gonna marry—what the hell are you still doing here, anyway? These coulda kept until tomorrow, you know?"

"It was no big deal," Jack shrugged. He shifted in the chair for a bit before letting his head loll back; silence reigned for several seconds as he proceeded to roll his head counter-clockwise, working the kinks out of his neck.

"You know, I'd ask if you're a bit tense," Tony offered, "but you've been acting anything _but_ the last week or so."

What began as an initial sly assessment of his good friend was now an open perusal. Tony had spent the better part of the week convincing himself he was imagining things; but as he regarded the man before him he realized his gut instinct was not in vain. He needed to say something. True, Jack was never prone to long bouts of conversation. Save for when he was in the field or as required for the job, overall, Jack was not one for displays of emotion. He was beyond the poster boy for stoic. Tony could say with absolute certainty that "off the clock" Jack Bauer was probably one of the least animated people he'd ever met. He once joked to Jack he was the only man he knew who could have a horde of scorpions dropped down his pants and not so much as whimper.

But even for someone as reserved as Jack, Tony found his almost apathetic behavior when it came to his upcoming nuptials disturbing. Hell, he knew Jack would do the same for him if he had the same gnawing feeling something was off.

"Which reminds me, I've, um, been meaning to talk to you about the whole best man thing…," he prompted. "Did you get struck by a sudden bout of amnesia, Jack?"

"Huh?" Absently, massaging the back of his neck, Jack sat up and addressed Tony. "What do you mean?"

Tony stared knowingly at the man who'd seen him through some of the most difficult moments in his life. If not for his current misgivings, he would actually be hurt that Jack hadn't asked him to stand at his side as he declared to family, friends, and the world his love for the woman he was to marry.

"I gotta admit, I'm surprised you didn't ask me to be your best man!"

"Hey, Tony, c'mon. You _know_ I'd have you at my side." Jack sighed. "But it's a family thing I have to make good on. My cousin, Terry."

"Oh," Tony replied flatly. "Him."

Jack took no offense at Tony's less than enthusiastic reference to his kin. Terrence "Terry" Phillips tended to inspire extreme responses; animus and adoration were reactions he was as familiar with as he was the sound of his own voice or his reflection. The handsome corporate financier had managed to amass much success due to his willingness to embrace the situational ethics so often employed by those in his field; that fondness for moral fluidity often carried over into his personal life—hence his less than stellar track record when it came to marriage. Still, professional and personal shortcomings notwithstanding, he was still the one thing Jack had next to nothing in the way of: family.

With the death of his first wife Terri, an only child whose parents preceded her in death, his daughter Kim's connection to her side of the family became nonexistent. Likewise, the deaths of Jack's brother Graem and their father Phillip served to effectively rendered Jack as his daughter's lone source of family—except for Terry, who like Jack's late wife, was an only child whose parents were both deceased. And while Kim had little if any memory of her father's cousin, in light of the paucity of the Bauer bloodline, Jack thought it prudent to at least make an attempt to keep the lines of communication open between him and his cousin.

"Believe it or not, we used to be pretty tight growing up but…time…hell, _life_…we just drifted apart. We became different people." Jack's voice was distant. "Our priorities became different, too."

For Jack, that priority was service to his country; for Terry, it was _servants_ and homes across the country. The two eventually managed to connect again when Jack returned to the States and signed on with CTU; nothing steady, a phone call on birthdays or at Christmas…if either remembered. The cousins' next face-to-face didn't occur until the funeral of Jack's first wife, Terri. Not wanting it to take another sorrowful gathering to bring them together, it was Terry who in a rare act of sincerity extended the invitation to Jack to be his best man as he said "I do" for the third time, making his cousin promise if he ever remarried he would allow Terry to return the favor.

"So, you're basically saying your best friend gets screwed because you made a promise to family you don't even really like," Tony cracked.

"Yeah, pretty much," Jack grinned wryly. "It's the only we we're pretty much guaranteed to cross paths…then return to our respective corners."

Jack did not elaborate any further; he knew Tony grasped that which was unspoken; Jack's contact with his cousin was due more to _formality_ than fondness. For better or worse, neither was the man now they used to be all those years ago; and while Jack would be the first to admit he was in no way a saint, he did consider himself a man who lived by a code—a man of honor. His cousin, it pained him to acknowledge, was more prone to bear that label whenever it could prove to be advantageous to _him_.

"Anyway, what's with Michelle's sudden obsession with weddings?"

"It's not so much your wedding…as it is who may be a potential _guest_ at the wedding."

"I don't follow."

"Michelle is hoping Sabrina will attend…and that her date will be the same, and I quote, '_ridiculously_ handsome man' she was with at Ambassador Flynn's retirement celebration."

"Oh, now I see…," Jack chuckled. "Wow. That was almost a year ago and she still remembers? Then again, now that I think of it, he _did_ make quite an impression on the ladies."

"Speaking of ladies…" Tony couldn't have planned a better segue way if he tried. "I never did ask you, but when's the last time you saw a certain one in particular…Sabrina?"

"I…haven't," Jack replied quizzically. "Other than Flynn's celebration, maybe the last time I saw her was the latter part of last year when Heller flew her in for a quick check up…"

"Oh, yeah! I remember that," Tony nodded. "He and Division had spent the entire meeting going 'round and 'round and he wound up with a raging headache…"

"Swore he was having another aneurysm," Jack cut in.

"And insisted CTU fly Sabrina in to examine him!" Tony guffawed, slapping his palm on the desk. "You'll _never_ convince me he didn't use that as an excuse to have a beautiful woman feel him up!" he marveled. "So, other than that, you haven't seen her?"

"No, Tony," Jack shook his head, his laughter slowly subsiding. "And we didn't even see each other; more like passed each other in the hall."

"So the last time you really got a good look at her was Flynn's party? What was it like seeing her again?"

"I… don't know. It just…was. What do you want me to say, Tony?" Jack shrugged. "I mean, she looked great," he added absently.

"Tell me something I don't know, Jack. Man, she _always_ looks great. I'm not interested in how she looked; I'm more curious about how **you** felt. Did it bother you, seeing her with another man?"

"Huh? No…no," Jack replied, his response sounding a bit too forced even to his own ears. "No," he repeated, this time slower, "it didn't bother me seeing her with someone else. And not that it has any bearing on the matter, but that man Michelle was swooning over is Sabrina's _nephew_. And, now that I think of it, what the hell is up with the shrink routine, Tony?"

"Bullshit. The reason it didn't 'bother' you is because it **was** her nephew. Let her have walked in there with someone she _could_ have gone to bed with later that night…" Tony made a rude noise as he shot Jack a skeptical look. "Please. You may be able to fool yourself, Jack, but you're not fooling me…"

"Alright, you obviously have something on your mind." Jack stood, planting his palms on the desk and studied Tony, his gaze piercing. "C'mon, we've been friends too long to bullshit each other by trying to stand on ceremony. Out with it."

Tony took a deep breath; he had a lot to get off his chest. "Okay. Here goes. After the whole shit storm blew over with the Chinese consulate and you came back as head of Field Ops, I thought you were all in. I mean you were in a pretty good place, professionally…_and_ personally. You weren't a player or anything, but you were putting yourself out there; you and Audrey gave it another go, when that didn't work, you and Kate tried again. Same outcome. Things didn't work."

"But even when you weren't involved with anyone, you were still…_here_, you were present! When you and Sabrina started seeing each other? Man, it was like night and day. You were more alive than I'd seen you in a _long_ time, Jack. Hell…and I don't mean any disrespect – I liked Terri, you _know_ I did – but you weren't even that way when you were married. I barely recognized you when you got involved with Sabrina. But you know what? That was a _good_ thing. It was like you'd finally come back to life!"

"Look, I don't know what happened with you two; I don't wanna know. But since I'm going for broke, I'm just gonna put this out there: there's obviously still something there. And I think you're trying your best to ignore it, but the more you do, the more apparent the truth of the matter becomes. Think about it. You and Sabrina break up. And less than two years later, you and _Audrey_ are about to get _married_? Not only that, but you plan to relocate back to D.C. and step away from **_counter-terrorism_**? Man, you eat, sleep, and breathe this stuff! It's in your blood. And you're gonna go and sit behind a desk for the rest of your career?"

Tony made no attempt to mask his incredulity as he laughed.

"You call it 'moving on'…I call it _run-ing_. Nah. Scratch that; 'running' implies active participation. It's like someone flipped a switch and you're sleepwalking through your life all over again. What the fuck, Jack? What **happened**, man?"

Tony was unflinching as he met Jack's gaze.

"Well, don't hold back, Tony. Why don't you tell me what you _really_ think," Jack replied sharply. His intent had been sarcasm but his reply merely came across as angry and defensive. Realizing he needed a moment to regroup, that his irritation was not with Tony but rather with himself, Jack exhaled slowly. "I think the answer's obvious, don't you? Hell, you mentioned it enough in your little soliloquy. You want me to say it? Okay. Fine." His voice softened. "Bri. She happened. Hell…_we_ happened."

Jack went silent. He wasn't in the mood to elaborate. How could he explain it to his friend when _he_ still had moments when he found himself grappling with the emotional fallout of things ending with Sabrina?

"So…you're saying you _are_ doing all this to get away from her?"

"No, I'm not running." Jack was resolute. "What I **am** doing…is...moving on, Tony."

"Really?" Tony's stare was as disbelieving as his tone. "Have you 'moved on' enough to invite her to the wedding?"

"Honestly?" Jack gave a short, hollow laugh. "I haven't really given it much thought."

"Uh-huh. You _must_ be talking about the wedding. 'Cause you sure as hell don't mean Sabrina. Man, you don't just forget a woman like that."

His gaze on the monitor over Jack's shoulder, Tony rose to his feet. A situation appeared to be brewing in Interrogation 3; the sooner he stepped in the better for all involved.

"Hell, Jack, if _I_ still can remember the first time I laid eyes on Sabrina, and I wasn't even involved with her, I know you _sure_ as hell must have some serious recall going on." As he rounded his desk, he couldn't help but smile as he clapped his poor, deluded friend on the shoulder. "See ya."

As he watched Tony walk away, much as it galled him to do so, Jack had to admit to himself the truth of Tony's statement. Impending wedding or no, it didn't take much to make him think of his ex-lover; Jack simply made a conscious effort **not** to. But when he _did_ allow his mind to 'go there'? Man, it was a _nice_ trip…

# # # # #

_18 months earlier…_

_As with most things taking place on any given day at CTU, the dynamics of any given situation shifted in a matter of minutes; the New York branch of the agency was no different. One second, Secretary of Defense James Heller was in the midst of delivering a blistering tongue lashing to the staff working the current protocol regarding a potential chemical warfare threat, the next he was swaying on his feet as if disoriented, having trouble remembering (much less repeating) the date, where he was, or even his own name. _

_After what no doubt had to be 300 of the most paralyzing and terrifying seconds of the government official's life – as well as his daughter Audrey's – it was deduced that the cause of Heller's current state stemmed from a potential cerebral accident of some sort that while the medical doctors on staff could avert, inevitably it would require a specialist to treat—surgically. The sooner the better. As befitting a member of the President's cabinet, naturally, no expense was spared to obtain the absolute best in the field to perform the necessary surgery. A few well-placed phone calls deduced 'the best' was no longer practicing in the field of Neurology and even if such were the case could not be reached as he was in Nepal. _

_Climbing Everest._

_"So you mean to tell me the best chance we have of saving my father is on the other side of the world…on the side of a __**mountain**__?!" Audrey Raines railed. With great effort, she tore her terrified gaze away from the monitors providing a direct feed of the ongoing assessment of her father taking place in CTU's medical unit. _

_The combination of frustration and fear getting the better of her, Audrey waved off any attempts at consolation from nearby staff members and instead made a beeline towards the determined man entering the conference room. _

_"I was down on the floor going over Intel when I heard. What the hell happened, Brian?" Jack Bauer barked. _

_Seconds later Audrey proceeded to launch her sobbing form against Jack's before anyone could even attempt to offer an answer to his question. Burying her face against his chest, Audrey eked out a muffled, "Oh, Jack! What are we going to _**_do_**_?!" even as she instinctively snaked her arms around him. _

_Somewhat awkwardly, the newly reinstated Director of Field Ops embraced his softly weeping former lover, unable to prevent himself from wondering just how the hell he'd wound up in his current predicament, both literally and figuratively. He was only in New York as a favor to Heller; "on loan" from CTU Los Angeles in a strictly administrative capacity due to his first-hand knowledge of information pertaining to a few of the mission's key players. And yet, in the span of less than 10 minutes he'd gone from offering Intel to offering comfort. _

_While he would in no way abandon Audrey in what was obviously a time of need, Jack could not deny that her inclusion of him in resolving the crisis regarding her father—effectively turning what was obviously a "me" situation into one that now encompassed "we"—was yet another example of how out of sync the two were when it came to the nature of their relationship post-break up. Once again, he found himself entertaining that nagging feeling that occurred whenever they occupied the same space without the common bond of work; that even though Jack had (amid her protests, and as delicately as he could) ended things between them nearly six months earlier, Audrey _still_ harbored the belief the dissolution of their relationship was merely temporary. _

_"Just…calm down, Audrey," Jack said softly, stroking her back in kind. "I'm sure CTU is doing everything they can to get your father the best possible care." His gaze found that of the agency's Director. _

_"Don't you worry, Miss Raines," Agent Cole Ortiz cut in. "Look, people, I don't care if this Dr. Carson's about to set the world record for the fastest ascent of Mount Everest blindfolded, without O2, in the __**dark**__, we need to get him here!" he barked. Seconds later he leveled a disbelieving but nonetheless steely gaze at the surrounding staff still standing motionless in the wake of his declaration. "Newsflash, people! We need to do it _**_now_**_!" _

_The baby-faced Director of Field Ops shot the agency Director an apologetic look, grateful he didn't take the opportunity to put him on blast right then and there for essentially taking the helm in a matter that was above both his pay grade and security clearance. It only served to anchor his admiration and respect of the agency administrator; Cole was fully aware the Director knew he was, justly or unjustly, taking Heller's current state personally: it was Cole's team that had blown the surveillance of the target, failure that had resulted in the target still being at large—news that perhaps contributed to exacerbating conditions resulting in the Secretary's current life or death state._

_"You can hang up getting Carson down off Everest…and not just because of the logistics." Brian Hastings' reply was smooth, unassuming, yet direct—characteristics that were the very embodiment of the handsome CTU New York administrator. "But Agent Ortiz is correct, Miss Raines. You don't need to worry. We'll ensure Secretary Heller gets the very best care available."_

_"How?! How are you going to do that?" Audrey cried. "Your own Intel reveals the world's best Neurosurgeon isn't even in the country right now."_

_"That's actually incorrect," Hastings countered softly. "__One of the best_****_is not in the country. But __the best_ _**is**__. __In fact she not only is Dr. Carson's protégé, but it gets even better. She's right here in New York…" _

_"How soon can she be here?" Jack asked. _

_"If my connections are still as good as I believe they are, soon as I make this call." _

_Seconds later, a smile threatened to ease its way across Hastings' cocoa hued features as he addressed the party on the other line. _

_"__**Tasha**__…" Despite his best efforts, Hastings had to chuckle; the response was just as he expected it to be. "Hey, hey! Don't hang up! I know…I know! I'm virtually persona non grata with you for missing your wedding. No, I __**didn't**__ know you were on your honeymoon," he winced. "Look, you can read me the riot act over dinner when you get back. But right now, I need a favor, Tasha. A huge one. I'm talking national security-related 'huge'." _

_"Fine," Alexis Davis Taggert relented, smiling in spite of herself. "What do you need, Brian…?" _

_"Thanks, Tasha. I owe you. Big time." Hastings exhaled sharply, sending up a silent prayer the answer to his request would be the one he sought. "Now, _**_please_**_ tell me that firecracker sister of yours is __still__ on staff at that hospital in Port Charles…" _

_# # #_

_"Obviously, this is _**_not_**_ how you planned to spend your evening," Brian Hastings deadpanned. As his hurried, determined footsteps led them along the corridor towards the Medical unit his gaze swung to the woman at his side, appreciatively assessing her from head to toe. _

_"That's right, Hastings, you missed out on __**all**__ of this!" Doctor Sabrina DeLane quipped, as they rounded the corner. Her gaze straight ahead she added, "Go on and have a good look at what the wrong seat cost ya!" Joining the handsome administrator in laughter she was pleased to see that even nearly a decade later he, too, still derived amusement over the memory of how a mix-up in seating arrangements resulted in derailing either's pursuit of a blossoming attraction and instead gave birth to a most memorable summer romance for Hastings (and inevitable lifelong friendship) with her sister Alexis. _

_"If I didn't before, l want to apologize… I know how the Cassadines are about privacy and if there was_ any _way to keep you—and your family—out of this, know that I would have. But they needed the best…" he shrugged. _

_"Such is the 'down side' at times of being the best at what you do, no? Hey, you should know! How long did you say you've had your eye on the lead spot over at the WSB, but the brass at Division and the decision makers in Washington-" _

_"'Don't want to upset the unique chemistry I've managed to establish here at CTU New York'," he parroted their patented response. _

_Hastings wasn't stupid; he knew the powers that be knew that in him they had that rare creature when it came to an agency Director—someone who was both political and productive. His administrative skills combined with years of field experience had forged the New York branch of the agency into one without peer on the East Coast and his rep of being 'tough but fair' was well-earned, garnering him the respect and loyalty of his agents and staff. When it came to navigating the perilous political waters of Division – the policy making and enforcing branch of CTU – he chose his battles carefully; even when implementing their unpopular decisions he always did so with an eye towards what was inevitably beneficial to CTU. _

_But perhaps the thing that proved to be Hastings's greatest strength also was the reason behind the higher ups' refusal to make his path to their competition a smooth one—whether his resources were abundant or meager, simply put, _**_Brian Hastings produced results_**_. _

_Like now. _

_"Again, Sabrina, I really appreciate your helping us out with this. I know what this is gonna cost the Cassadines, so to speak." _

_"It's_ _**okay**__, Brian." She reached out to place her hand on his forearm and gave the toned expanse a light pat, as if to reiterate her position on the matter. _

_"That's very kind of you to try and downplay the situation. And even though ultimately your involvement was unavoidable, I know this is_ _**not**_ _gonna sit well with that brother of yours." Hastings made a face. Just the thought of Stefan Cassadine turning his attention towards_ _his__ "corner of the sky" was enough to give him an ulcer. "The man is insanely private, especially about your family. Add to that he wields an equally insane amount of power…" At his last statement realization slowly began to dawn for Hastings. "And the fact that you don't even seem to be breaking a sweat over the Cassadine name now being on CTU's radar-" _

_"'__**Now**__ on the radar'?" Sabrina repeated, biting back a laugh. "Brian, please. Humor me all you want, but do_ _not_ _insult me." Pinning Hastings with an incredulous gaze, she arched a finely waxed brow. "Sweetheart, my family tried to freeze the world," she whispered conspiratorially, giving his cheek a light pat. "If __**that**__ doesn't earn someone a permanent spot on the government's radar," she winked, "I hate to think of what does!" _

_"So in other words, your brother's got this?" _

_Sabrina nodded, a silent indicator there was no need for Hastings' concern. Both knew the moment her name was mentioned as a potential physician for Heller, the agency began the process of vetting her; upon confirmation that she was indeed available to treat Heller, CTU's considerable resources were fully unleashed to unearth any and everything about her—which inevitably would turn the spotlight upon her family, who as Hastings had none too tactfully reminded her were as adverse to publicity as vampires were to sunlight. _

_"I think the fact that the 'dossier' CTU attempted to compile on me_ and _my family doesn't even total three pages gives you your answer, no?" _

_"Touché, good doctor. Touché," he nodded. "So, we're good?" _

_"You and I? Of course," she smiled. "Now you and Tasha, on the other hand…" she teased. "I'm kidding. She said to tell you she'll be in touch when she's stateside once more. She's looking forward to catching up with you." Her gaze was pulled away by the unfolding scene inside the exam room. "Now, if you'll excuse me, Brian," she said absently, "I need to go and try to save your Secretary of Defense…before your doctors kill him!"_

_# # #_

_"Doctor Ratner," Sabrina's voice was even, "I suggest you return your attention to the patient's EKG and away from the scene unfolding outside this room." _

_The raised voices wafting in were difficult to ignore—but not impossible. Unlike the majority of both the medical and security staff present in the room it appeared only Sabrina had chosen to tune out histrionics of the shrill blonde down the hallway. She knew who the woman was; Hastings had informed her she was Audrey Raines, the patient's daughter. _

_'Well,' Sabrina noted silently, 'Raines is a pain…in my ass!'_

_As if on cue, the 'pain' started anew. _

_"No! I don't want to 'calm down'!" Audrey spat. Angrily, she waved off an attempt by Hastings to place a comforting hand on her shoulder. "You told me, Brian, you were getting the world's best Neurosurgeon to operate on my father. And instead I come to find out you have him being tended to by…by some…supermodel?! Really, I mean what kind of 'doctor'," Audrey all but sneered the title, "dresses like that?! You said she was at some kind of ceremony…for what, high-priced escorts?!"_

_"I'm sorry you're displeased, Audrey," Hastings replied._

_Silently, he counted backwards from 10. This day was already shaping up to be a category 3 shit storm; he knew if he let Heller's daughter get under his skin it would leapfrog to category 5 in a matter of seconds. Satisfied both his temper and patience were once again in check he addressed the worried but nonetheless grating party before him._

_"Still, I stand by my decision to bring in Dr. DeLane. Now, I have no control over how you view her or the—uninformed, might I add—opinion you have of her. But the fact remains, I told you I would get the best surgeon in the world to operate on your father, and I have done just that, Audrey. Right now, she is the only thing standing between your father and otherwise certain death! But, if you feel, based solely on her choice of attire no less, she's not the woman for the job?" With a sweep of his hand he gestured towards the exam room. "By all means, be my guest…"_

_Hastings took Audrey's silence as concession._

_"Good. Now if you'll come with me, I'd like to bring you up to speed on what the CTU doctors told me about your father's condition." Draping his arm about her shoulder he led her towards his office. "This way, you'll be fully informed when Dr. DeLane is ready to go over her assessment with you."_

_# # #_

_"Yes?" Sabrina, her back to the door, continued to exam Heller's eyes as she heard the approaching footfalls. "May I help you?"_

_'I should_ _**definitely**__get sick more often…' _

_That was the first thought to register for Jack Bauer as he entered the exam room of Medical at the New York branch of CTU. _

_Upon first glance it would be easy to be distracted by the stunning, statuesque woman at Heller's bedside now, absently it seemed, taking his pulse as she conversed with the staff physician. _

_No doubt, the halter styled Azzaro floor length gown she wore contributed considerably to the diversion of his thoughts; the egg shell colored garment fit her like the proverbial glove, accentuating a most ample bust and highlighting the curves of what was no doubt an incredible body. _

_"I was looking for Secretary Heller's daughter, Audrey," Jack replied._

_Sabrina turned at the sound of the voice – a somewhat gravelly yet low, throaty rumble that she likened to the sound of distant thunder – and was pleased to find the visuals were as striking as the vocals they accompanied._

_"Are you family?"_

_"No," Jack replied. "I'm a Federal Agent with CTU; Director of Field Operations. I used to be Special Assistant to Secretary Heller. I'm now…I'm a family friend."_

_Sabrina proceeded to test Heller's reflexes as she spoke. "Do you have a name, family friend?"_

_"Agent…Jack Bauer." He stepped closer to Heller's bed. "I take it you're Sabrina DeLane…Doctor Sabrina DeLane?" he corrected._

_"If I'm not," she looked up and grinned, "things are gonna get really interesting when the surgery starts!"_

_"Yeah," Jack laughed softly, "I guess they would."_

_No stranger to beautiful women, there was something beyond the obvious physical attributes on display that piqued Jack's curiosity—a very potent yet intangible air that went beyond the stereotypical "surgeon's ego." She seemed to wear the attributes of confidence and strength as easily and elegantly as she did the designer gown draping her shapely frame. Jack watched intrigued as first her chiseled toffee features hardened ever so slightly in response to something the doctor whispered in her ear that she obviously found issue with then as she turned her attention back to the patient, briefly register a look that could at best be described as approval. Even as the slew of monitors that recorded Heller's vital signs began to broadcast their results in an almost alarming symphony, with her free hand she smoothly placed it atop the chest of the understandably concerned patient as she deftly ceased taking his pulse with the other and gently squeezed the hand, giving him a smile that while no doubt practiced to perfection still somehow managed to convey warmth and above all assurance._

_"Agent Bauer," Sabrina began slowly, "I need you to do me a huge favor. Two actually."_

_"Sure," Jack responded in kind. The beautiful doctor's almost cautious tone was not lost on him._

_"One, I need to get out of these shoes; my feet are killing me. And seeing as I will be on my feet for the next four or five hours for certain, I need to take what small amount of relief I can when I can. So if you wouldn't mind?" she tossed over her shoulder then slowly but gracefully lifted her left foot._

_"Yeah, sure," Jack nodded as he knelt before her._

_As his gaze fell upon the strappy, bejeweled stilettos silently he marveled never had he found a pair of shoes as sensual as he did those at that moment. With the same precision and delicate touch he used when dismantling a bomb, Jack wrapped his fingers about the tawny slender ankle extended before him. The faint ripple of flesh beneath his fingers was accompanied by what he could only describe as a jolt of electricity coursing through his digits as they gingerly curled about the joint. Seconds later his cerulean gaze darted to hers and found chocolaty orbs alit with surprise holding his stare. Each held the other's gaze for several seconds more until Jack had successfully undone the sandal's jewel encrusted ankle strap and slid the shoe from her foot. Sabrina returned her attention to the situation at hand and Jack did likewise, removing the second shoe in silence._

_"Thank you," Sabrina said softly._

_"You're welcome." Rising to his feet, Jack asked, "What's the second thing you need?" He watched intrigued as the surgeon, a smile of reassurance once again on her face, look towards Heller._

_"I need Mr. Hastings in here."_

_Her gaze never leaving Heller's, she was the picture of calm and confidence. So it was quite a shock to hear her next comment._

_"_**_Now_**_."_

_# # #_

_"_**_Poisoned_**_?!" Audrey and Hastings both wore matching expressions of disbelief._

_"You have got to be kidding me! Are you for real?!" Audrey asked. "My father was poisoned." She repeated the statement slowly, as if doing so would somehow make it less ludicrous. "This is the conclusion from, and I quote_ _**you**__, Brian, __'__the world's best Neurosurgeon'__…whom _**_you_**_ chose!" Accusingly she pointed her finger in his direction. "You told me you were getting him the best, Brian," Audrey said through gritted teeth, "__not__ someone with all the intellect of a damn…fashion model!" _

_"Are you finished?" Sabrina asked calmly. "I am a Neurologist. I know the pathways of the body's nervous system like most people know their own reflections. More importantly, and luckily I might add for your father, I have a…" She paused as the faintest of smiles tickled the corner of her mouth. "Shall we say…an 'intimate' working knowledge the effects of expertly administered toxins." _

_"I don't understand." _

_"Of course you don't." Sabrina gave Audrey her most saccharine, condescending smile. "It's all in the file CTU no doubt has compiled on my family, the Cassadines. Trust me when I tell you we are __**quite**__ familiar with this sort of thing." _

_"You think this is a joke?!" _

_"No, I do not." Sabrina gave a resolute shake of her head. "But I have seen first-hand the effects of what a powerful neurotoxin_ _**can**_ _do. And I am not talking about the type that is medically administered, Miss Raines. Your father is exhibiting all the symptoms. Now you have two options. 1) Stand there and continue to attempt to insult me by making what you believe to be snarky but are really benign comments about my attire and my credentials and capabilities as a surgeon—and in the process waste extremely precious seconds your father does not have. Or, 2) give your consent, shut up, and stand back as I do what not a single person in this building has the ability to." _

_"And what is that?" Audrey ground out. _

_"Save your father's life." _

_# # #_

_"He didn't move while I was gone, right?" Sabrina cracked. As she watched the young agent stationed outside Heller's room struggle to keep at bay the mixture of panic and confusion threatening to cloud his striking features, Sabrina took pity on the obviously tightly wound sentry. "I was kidding, Agent. Secretary Heller just had major brain surgery?" she prompted as she gave him a pat on the shoulder. "He's not gonna be moving anytime soon—the next eight or 10 hours, for sure." The information Sabrina relayed did little if anything to soothe the agent's jangled nerves. "It was just a little medical humor. Emphasis," she added mirthlessly as she entered the room, "on the __**little**__, apparently." _

_A quick stretch accompanied a muffled yawn as her gaze scanned the array of monitors before easing her tired form into the chair opposite Heller's bed. She wasn't sleepy but she was definitely tired, one of the main reasons she'd stepped away from observing the patient just long enough to shower—if one could call the scant amount of time she spent beneath the pounding spray of water such. Her intent had been twofold, first and foremost, to wash off the eight hours' worth of sweat she'd accumulated during the surgery; but also in the hopes of bolstering her energy in preparation for the long night ahead at Heller's bedside. _

_Such an act was neither being carried out because of his role in government, nor at the insistence of his daughter. Rather, when it came to the care of her patients, such conduct was commonplace; as was the case with any high-risk surgery—whether several minutes or several_ hours_—Sabrina would personally observe the patient's post-op progress. If it gave the irksome Raines woman a false sense of power to believe her petulant pre- and post-surgery behavior had resulted in such attentiveness, Sabrina could care less. _

_Her first and primary priority was, as always, the patient. _

_A light rap outside the recovery room's door drew Sabrina's attention from the outdated copy of National Geographic she'd been perusing for the past four hours._

_"Agent Bauer. How may I help you?"_

_"How's he doing?"_

_Jack's movements were slow and measured as he drew near the foot of Heller's hospital bed. His reaction, Sabrina noted, was not unlike that of most non-medical professionals upon bearing witness to a patient in a full-on post-op atmosphere. Then again, she acknowledged, the assortment of IVs, tubes, along with variously beeping monitors, especially when attached to a loved one or friend, was a rather overwhelming sight._

_"Exceptionally well, considering the extent of his surgery," Sabrina answered. Slowly, her gaze followed the nicely built sentry as he crossed the room, the entire time he expertly assessed his surroundings before finally grabbing the nearby chair and taking up residence at the foot of Heller's bed, positioning himself diagonal to the room's entrance. "But right now, visitors, even_ family_—as I had to clarify in no uncertain terms for his daughter Audrey—do not even make the list of items I'm addressing regarding his care right now. Besides, he's so heavily sedated he wouldn't even know you're here." She offered a smile of understanding. "Trust me when I tell you, Agent Bauer-" _

_"Jack," he interrupted softly, "call me Jack." _

_"Okay,_ _Jack__," she nodded, forcing a smile, "I'll make sure you're notified if there is even the slightest change in his condition. I'll be here all night." _

_"That makes two of us, doctor." His body language left no doubt as to the sincerity of his words. "Look, let me try this again," he stood, softening his tone. _

_Jack was fully aware he was trying the beautiful surgeon's patience, yet he found himself strangely intrigued, moved almost, by the sense of fire she harbored within that seemed to be just on the verge of springing forth. _

_"Secretary Heller was poisoned; you said so, yourself. That means someone tried to take him out. Now, this facility is one of the most secure in the world, and the chances of anyone being able to get past the security and weaponry housed here is virtually impossible. But what makes me the best at what I do, Dr. DeLane, is I don't take false comfort in that. I don't subscribe to the belief it won't happen; I operate on the premise it will. But it's my job to make sure it_**_ doesn't_**_." _

_"Point taken, Agent…I mean, Jack," she corrected, adding softly, "and call me Sabrina." _

_It had been a long evening for all involved, she reasoned. No sense in creating conflict where none existed or was necessary. Also, she had to admit, she could focus better with the knowledge there was someone as undeniably capable as him around. _

_"What is that?" Sabrina asked, closing the distance between them. In full-on "doctor mode" she gave no thought at all to invading his personal space as she leaned in while pointing to an area on the left side of his neck; she watched as a slow trickle of blood began to issue forth from a nearly 2" cut of some sort. _

_"Damn." His hand now at his neck, Jack's fingers gingerly trailed along the angry area of aggravated flesh. "Guess I almost caught one while giving Ortiz an assist out in the field." _

_"I presume when you say 'caught one'," she leveled a disbelieving stare at him as she drew back, "you're referring to a bullet, no?" _

_"Yeah," he winced. Suddenly the area was throbbing like a bitch. _

_"You said you_ almost_ did, though, correct? You weren't actually shot?" _

_"Nah." _

_"Well, would you like me to take care of that for you, Superman?" _

_"Superman?" Jack looked at her, his gaze a mixture of amusement and curiosity. _

_"Yes. As in how it appears bullets just seem to bounce right off you?" Sabrina could not help but laugh at how matter-of-fact he was in response to his injury. "The way I see it, I figure if you're going to be Secretary Heller's personal guard 24/7 for the duration of his recovery, we kinda need you fully operational, no?" _

_Jack watched as Sabrina motioned for him to follow her and with an economy of motion directed him to take a seat atop the nearby counter as she riffled through the nearby rolling cart of medical supplies. _

_"Is it gonna hurt, doctor?" he cracked. He had to admit he found her teasing, lighthearted mood, much to his surprise, contagious. _

_The smile she gave him as she gave a graceful glance over her shoulder was one of pure devilment. "Only if you want it to." _

_Minutes later, she stood before Jack, depositing the last of her supplies on the counter. Smoothly she wedged herself between his thighs, her smile fading as she did so. "Actually, this_ will _hurt a bit." Raising the syringe for him to view, she promised, "But only for a few seconds. You'll feel something akin to a wasp sting." _

_"A wasp? What the hell happened to doctors lying to the patient and telling them it would feel like a mosquito bite or a slight sting?" he teased, drawing back. "Hell, now that I think of it, if you liken the pain to a wasp sting that means it's probably 10 times worse…" _

_"I won't lie. Even with the numbing agent it's going to be pretty uncomfortable for a little bit. However, it's positively_ painful _without it." Smoothly, she slid a gloved hand behind his head, effectively anchoring his neck in preparation for the injection. "I need to really get down in there and clean the area out before stitching it up." Syringe poised in her free hand, she angled it away from his neck and extended her middle finger, gently grazing the slender digit along the nicked area. "It may look like just a scratch, but a wound like that has the potential to turn nasty." _

_Jack tilted his head away, surprised when she maintained her grip upon the back of his neck. He reached across, gently taking her hand that held the syringe by the wrist. "No anesthetics." He gave a light shake of his head in response to her raised brow. "It's not what you think. It's not an attempt to be 'macho.' I just want my head completely clear; I don't want anything to slow me down while guarding Secretary Heller." _

_"Very well." Nodding, she put the syringe aside, retrieving the dampened gauze and with the middle finger and thumb of her free hand positioned them on opposite sides of the gash, applying the faintest amount of pressure. "I will try and be as gentle as I can." Lightly she pressed against the wound in preparation to spread the area open. _

_"It's alright, Sabrina." His gaze straight ahead, Jack bit back a smile. "Trust me when I tell you I've been subjected to worse in my line of work." Moments later, she leaned in and pressed the antiseptic-laden gauze against his flesh. Jack promptly responded with a muffled, "_**_Fuck_**_!" _

_"I'm sorry," she apologized, still meticulously tending to his wound, "just a_ _little_ _bit longer…" _

_"No…need to apologize," he offered through clenched teeth. "Just…caught me off guard, is all." _

_In theory, that admission was true, Jack reminded himself. _

_His emphatic reaction had not been a result of the good doctor's actions—she had not even begun to scratch the surface of what constituted 'discomfort' for him—but rather was in response to the_ doctor_, herself. Their first physical contact that evening, he had dismissed. Even in light of the latent air of sensuality that seemed to swirl about the two of them, he considered it a fluke; some strange yet potent byproduct of the adrenaline generated by the evening's events. But upon encountering her again, he felt that strange stirring once more; to attribute it to adrenaline a second time not only seemed inaccurate but also insulting. What he was experiencing in some strange way was almost primal in its intensity. As a result, when it became apparent there would be physical contact between them once more, for a reason unknown yet still heeded by him—even with the thin latex barrier of her gloves separating them—he resolved to mentally prepare himself for her touch. _

_To brace himself for her scent never occurred to him._

_True, earlier his senses had been awash in the subtle yet spicy fragrance she had adorned herself with. But the bouquet which greeted him now—that of a freshly scrubbed, perfume-free Sabrina—had served to rock him to his very core. _

_"You doing alright, Superman? You're awfully quiet." Although she was intently focused on suturing his wound, the laughter in her words was evident. _

_"Yeah," Jack bit out. Although he sat motionless, hands resting atop his thighs, internally he had a white-knuckle grip on the countertop as he struggled to keep his thoughts focused—on anything but the woman whose face was but inches away from his. _

_"There!" Sabrina announced with a flourish. "All. Done." As she removed her gloves, she rattled off his wound care instructions, reminding him to make sure to keep the area covered when showering and teasing him if at all possible to try and avoid being put in a headlock for the next 10 days. "How does your neck feel?" _

_"A little sore. And tight. But that's just around the area where the bullet grazed me." _

_"That's to be expected. It's due more to the stiches than anything else. They are a bit tight, but I assure you the discomfort will lessen in a few days." _

_Admiring her handiwork, she reached out to run her finger along the area and was brought up short as Jack's hand darted out and smoothly took her by the wrist. She was about to assure him she wasn't going to do anything to disturb the wound when she looked in his eyes and realized his action had not been one motivated in response to pain. Quite the opposite. Sabrina was about to speak when the sound of footfalls interrupted her. _

_"Yes?" they responded in unison to the intrusive party. _

_"I…uh…need...I mean, I want…" Cole Ortiz sputtered as he sought to tear his gaze away from Jack and Sabrina. Physically he was able to register that it was obvious Heller's doctor had tended to a wound of some sort Jack had. But in his mind? He couldn't explain it, but for some reason he felt as if he had just walked in on an incredibly intimate moment between a couple. _

_"Cole?" Jack prompted. "You were saying?" _

_"Oh, yeah! I wanted to let you know the report of the mission you assisted on is ready," he finally managed. "And it'll be upstairs in Hastings' office. Just need you to sign off on one or two things then it's good to go." _

_"I'll be there in a bit." _

_"Good then," Cole nodded. "I'll…just be…going then," he added, backing out of the room. _

_As he cleared the other side of the door, Cole was struck by the fact that during his entire exchange not once did Jack divert his gaze from Dr. DeLane. _

_Or let go of his hold upon her wrist. _

_# # # # #_

_"May I have my wrist back, Jack?"_

_"You've got another one," he answered. He smoothed his thumb across her pulse point. A steady, rhythmic throbbing ensued; directly in contrast to the cool, almost aloof façade that now greeted him. "Besides, I rather like this one."_

_"I'm sure you do," she smiled. Smoothly, she began to extract her wrist from his grasp._

_Jack noted the smile came off more as polite rather than sincere and wondered as to what was the cause of the sudden shift in mood between them. Undeterred, he pressed on. Just as it appeared she was free of his grasp, Jack tightened his hold._

_"Have dinner with me."_

_Dipping her head, Sabrina bit back a smile. Try thought she might, she could not prevent the soft laughter threatening to escape. _He most definitely gets points for determination_, she noted silently. _Among other things_, the tiny voice reminded her. She took a moment to compose herself then adopting her most haughty air, raised her gaze to meet his. _

_"I'm gonna make this easy for you, Agent Bauer." _

_"It's Jack, remember?" _

_"Fine…Jack? I don't date. I have sex or I have relationships." Her wrist still within his grasp, their gazes locked, once again a soft smile—this time, one filled with challenge—turned up the corner of her mouth. "And I'm not interested in a relationship." _

_"Do you eat?" _

_The corners of her eyes began to crinkle in amusement before the bark of laughter tore from her throat. Head thrown back, she guffawed in response to his unexpected reply. 'Oh, yes, 'she noted softly, 'he is _**_definitely_**_ different!'_

_"Yes," she continued to laugh, "yes, I do!" _

_"Well, how about we continue this over dinner?" Jack smiled. "Not a date," he quickly added, chuckling softly, "just… dinner."_

_# # #_

His gaze sweeping the room as he prepared to leave CTU, Jack was struck by an unexpected feeling of wistfulness. By choice, he was going home to an empty house. But not for much longer, a tiny voice taunted him, and not on this side of the country, either. That last thought hit him hard. He'd made California his home; but in approximately in a year's time, or less if Audrey had any power to make it so, that would no longer be the case. Jack honestly did not know which he would miss more, CTU or California. He gave a bitter laugh. What did it say to him—hell, _about _him—that this place—CTU—even in light of all it had cost him, felt more like home to him lately than anywhere else?

It wasn't always that way.

He'd known the feeling of 'home' even when he did not occupy the actual physical space. He missed that feeling. Hell, he missed the one who stirred it to life. Sabrina. She was clear across the country, on the opposite coast. But there were times, nights like tonight, when he could feel her as powerfully as if she were beside him.

But she wasn't.

Forcing down the thoughts of times and memories past, Jack grabbed the stack of files off Tony's desk and tucking them beneath his arm headed out. The past was just that, he reminded himself; he needed to concentrate on the future.

With Audrey.

He loved her; maybe not as strongly as she loved him, but it was love just the same. Besides, it wasn't all about 'love'… They could have a good life together.

Not the life he wanted, but a life just the same.

**[A/N: Casting for Terrence "Terry" Phillips - Aaron Eckhart (**_**I, Frankenstein**_**; **_**Olympus Has Fallen**_**; **_**The Dark Knight**_**)-Pam]**


	10. Chapter 10

Get Here: Chapter 10

_"This is about you. This is about you and the man you were involved with, cher. The agent, Bauer? You loved him?" _

_Sabrina, her eyes fluttering closed, could only nod her head. _

_"Look at me, cher," Celeste commanded. She waited until Sabrina complied before she spoke again. "And you_**_ still _**_do, no?" _

_"Yes." _

_"Then the answer is simple, don't you see, cher?" Celeste beamed._**_ "Go and be with him_**_, cher! Go to him." _

Of all the moments from her impromptu visit to her mother Sabrina entertained on the flight back to Port Charles, and there were many, it was that lone decree by her mother she found the most difficult to accept. And ignore.

_Go and be with him…_

Sabrina did not have to wonder if it truly was that simple; merely showing up on Jack's doorstep and making her intentions known. The truth of the matter was it_ was _as easy as that. No, what gave her pause and could still make her insides clench and leave her palms damp was what was required of her—submission. The only other prospect as terrifying was an experience that was equally foreign to the beautiful surgeon._ Rejection_. While it was not a possibility she enjoyed entertaining, the pragmatist in Sabrina knew she had to evaluate all sides of the equation and then, as her beloved brother Stefan had taught her, consider several_ additional _outcomes.

Of the two prospects—submission or rejection—Sabrina was at a loss to determine which was the greater cause for hesitancy in heeding her mother's advice.

Her mind screamed it was the former; it_ had _to be, she reasoned. After all, save what was required of her as a Cassadine, she had lived the better part of her adult life deferring to no one and had neither the desire nor could she conceive of a_ reason _to change that now. And for of all things…love?! _'Thanks, but no thanks,' _was Sabrina's position on the subject. Past experiences of letting her guard down and extending her trust and her heart only to have the act result in betrayal or, even worse, abandonment —Sabrina's greatest fear—had left her jaded; the pain although buried deep within the recesses of her mind and locked away still had the ability to stir to life with crippling intensity. Like now.

Her heart, however, was coldly almost cruelly echoing it was the latter, rejection, which had proved to be the victor in this uncomfortable confrontation of truths. Yet it wasn't so much the prospect of being rebuffed by Jack that frightened Sabrina. Again, as a Cassadine she was a pragmatist. She had entertained that outcome._ Rejection. _Make no mistake, she wouldn't like it, but she would live.

As she settled back within the plush confines of the Gulfstream's leather seat Sabrina found her mind drifting to thoughts of Jack; she had many to choose from but inevitably her thoughts fell upon memories of the early stages of their union as she delighted in them most. Reminiscing was far more pleasant than addressing the lone unsettling thought that had been her constant companion since she'd learned of Jack and Audrey's upcoming wedding: She was facing the very real possibility of a life without Jack.

And just as it was all her doing, so it was that only_ she _could rectify the situation.

# # # # #

Flashes of memory invaded her thoughts…

_Night time. New York's skyline serving as a backdrop. Dinner and drinks at the ultra-exclusive New York steakhouse, chosen by Sabrina when Jack informed her he'd built up quite an appetite as the day had progressed. _

She could not prevent the smile curving the corner of her mouth as she recalled his reaction upon her arrival…

_"Sorry...," he began as he rose from the table, "my mind was somewhere else for a moment." _

_"On my legs, I do believe," Sabrina laughed as she slid into the booth. She chose the coal black one-shoulder Donna Karan cocktail dress for that very reason; that it served to highlight her curves was an added bonus. "Perhaps you're imagining what they would feel like...wrapped around your waist?" _

_"Are you always this direct?" Jack coughed in between sips of his scotch. _

_Her laughter rang out as she watched him smoothly recover. "Only with those whom I know will appreciate it. May I?" She reached for his drink. With the ease of a person who had a proclivity for the finer things in life she savored the amber liquid upon her tongue, giving an appreciative nod at his choice. "You do not strike me as a man who has time for games, Agent Bauer. I can assure you, I am no such woman." She smiled. "What I am, however, is astute enough to realize that you are as attracted to me as I am to you. Why should we stand on ceremony when it comes to such a truth?" She gave a graceful shrug of her shoulders. "Would you not much rather...enjoy that truth?"_

A smile still adorning her lovely features as she gazed out the jet's window, Sabrina basked in the memory of that evening, their dinner; how for nearly four hours they engaged in conversation that was at times frank, occasionally hilarious, quite often overtly sexual, but always intriguing. One thing was abundantly clear to both parties—things were going to be very promising.

Just not on_ that _night...

# # # # #

_New York. A luxury Penthouse suite in a posh hotel in the City. Three weeks after a very sexually charged conversation over an unexpectedly derailed dinner, two would-be lovers went about the task of "negotiating" the terms of their unique arrangement…_

_"Condom?" he repeated. His molten cerulean gaze locked with soft brown pools glittering with defiance._

_"It's nothing personal, Jack. It's more of a…symbolic thing for me."_

_"Did something change…did I miss something since the last time we saw each other? You're acting like this is going to be a one-shot deal…"_

_"Oh, no, no! On the contrary," Sabrina insisted. "I do believe you and I can have an…arrangement than can prove to be mutually satisfying to us both for as long as either of us so desires."_

_"Well, if it's all about 'satisfaction,' then a condom…" He shrugged, letting his words taper off. "Let's just say, that might prove to…I don't know…dull the full effect?"_

_"Is that so?"_

_"Yeah, it is," he nodded. "Tell you what. Let's not insult each other's intelligence, Sabrina. Given the resources we both have at our disposal, we each know all we need to about the other's medical history. There's no need for rubbers. And you're far too smart – and sophisticated – to not have your shit together when it comes to birth control." A faint smile turned up the corner of Jack's mouth. "Speaking of which, 'control' is what this is all about."_

_"Is that what you think, Agent Bauer?"_

_"It's Jack, remember? Call me Jack," he murmured. "And, yeah, I do." He smiled in an effort to clamp down on the surprisingly rising irritation he was feeling in response to her smoothly but nonetheless deliberately evading addressing the issue. She was shifting into that cool, aloof mode like she'd done back at CTU the night they met. It bothered him then; it was driving him crazy now. "But I'm fine with that," he bluffed. "Completely. If that's how you want it…," he shrugged. "If you insist."_

_"It is. I do."_

_Jack watched the last glimmer of satisfaction register in the defiant surgeon's eyes and for a fleeting moment he swore he witnessed the briefest flash of something resembling surprise, as if she had been expecting to encounter more resistance if not an outright fight from him. As she turned to walk away, a knowing, almost arrogant smile tickling the corner of her mouth, Sabrina's last coherent act was to gasp the handsome Federal agent's name once more in response to him taking her by the waist with lightning-like speed and crushing her body to his._

_His mouth descending upon hers for a ravenous kiss, what scant remainder of protest or even defenses she possessed were lost as she felt the unmistakable evidence of his arousal press against her._

_If she harbored any questions as to if the enflamed government sentry's desire for her was real, they were soon answered as Jack stealthily took Sabrina's hand and slid it between their bodies, bringing it to rest between his thighs._

_Against the irrefutable proof of his intent._

_As the kiss ended, unflinchingly, Sabrina returned Jack's stare. "So, what are you waiting for?" It took every ounce of her resolve to keep her voice and hands steady. "Are we gonna do this or what?"_

_With a determined, deliberate thrust into her skilled hand Jack's message was loud and clear._

_"What do you think?"_

_"Fine," she said slowly. Her power of speech was still a bit unsteady. "Bedroom's this way." With a nod of her head she indicated the direction he should follow her as she turned away._

_As he replayed her earlier queries over in his mind Jack realized he had found the answer to the question that had haunted him since the evening of their dinner date. Correction, he reminded himself, chuckling softly, their _**_dinner_**_. The fiery surgeon had not taken the time to regroup; to try and regain control of the reins when it came to their encounter, so to speak. As far as she was concerned, nothing had changed. But as he appreciatively watched her saunter away, Jack noted to himself that nothing could be farther from the truth._

_This was happening._

**_They_**_ were happening… _

_# # #_

"Miss Sabrina?"

"I am sorry, Anton," Sabrina replied. "Did you say something?"

"Yes," he nodded. "I was informing you we have landed and we must disembark. It is time."

For several moments Sabrina sat motionless, both the power and truth of the sentry's innocently uttered statement seemingly have struck her with the force of fist to the chest. She swallowed to remove the lump in her throat. If ever there was a sign or portent, that had to be it, she reasoned ruefully.

"Yes," she finally managed. Nodding resolutely, she rose to her feet. Her decision had been made. "It_ is _time."


	11. Chapter 11

**[A/N: The character of Yuri Petrov is the creation (and appears with the permission) of jrsgirl-Pam]**

Get Here: Chapter 11

The journey from the jet to the quietly idling limousine had been a quick one. So immersed in attempting to sort her thoughts, Sabrina, as if on auto-pilot, gracefully ducked inside the vehicle without giving so much as a cursory glance to the driver who held open the door for her. Had she taken a moment to do so, she would have noticed he was not the standard chauffeur used to transport her to and from her usual travels. Rather, this was a driver whose pedigree was exceptional—a word easily associated with the value of the "precious cargo" he was charged with chauffeuring about town…

"Welcome back, dear heart!"

The only thing even remotely as stunning as the regal picture a Valentino-clad Faith Ward Cassadine presented as she rested comfortably within the confines of the custom, ridiculously armored limousine was the look of complete and utter shock which graced Sabrina's face as she slid into place on the seat next to her upon entering the vehicle's cab.

"F-F-Faith?" she stammered. "What are you doing here?"

"My day at Ward Software concluded…," Faith's cryptic reply was couched amid a small, polite smile, "shall we say...earlier than I had anticipated." Sabrina recognized the statement as the "shorthand" her beloved sister engaged in whenever responding to her Dear Heart's handiwork at play with regards to what Stefan viewed as Faith's unreasonable schedule.

It mattered not to the Greco-Russian billionaire that said schedule was indicative of a pace Faith had been operating at since her teenage years, when she first showed an interest in technology and computers. Nor did it sway him that Faith had built from the ground up and helmed for over a decade one of the most lucrative software companies in the world. And it most certainly earned her no favor with him that she was not on a "short list" but in fact she_ was _the short list when it came to technology innovations by software contractors the government was vying for the rights to.

No, all that Stefan knew, and all that mattered to him was that simply put, before the defiant beauty entered his life he merely existed; she not only gave him life, she _was_ his life—and he could not even begin to comprehend an existence without her. Thus, the responsibility – viewed by the chosen sentry as an honor – to safeguard his most precious treasure was bestowed upon his head of security, Yuri Petrov; the deadliest and most valued weapon in the Cassadine arsenal when it came to security.

Faith did not delude herself when it came to her husband's nature; she was fully aware that if Stefan Cassadine had his way she—his Beloved—would never venture away from Wyndemere and would instead conduct what scant amount of business he would allow her to preside over from within the considerably fortified walls of the Spoon Island estate.

"I had been made aware of your return earlier this morning by my Dear Heart, and I thought it would be a lovely surprise to greet you upon your arrival and venture into the City for an early supper."

"But…is not Stefan expecting you back at Wyndemere?"

"Dear heart?" The arch of Faith's brow inched precariously close to her hairline. "That was not a request."

"Of…course…of course," Sabrina nodded.

Faith placed a bejeweled hand atop Sabrina's, giving the expanse a gentle pat. "Trust me, Sabryn, when I tell you the more time that is allowed to elapse between your brother and I coming face to face today, the better." Faith then offered up a smile that was nothing short of glacial. "_For him_." She smoothly switched to Russian, addressing the silent ever-present sentry seated opposite her. "Krome togo, ya tak i ne udalos' podnyat' vashe krovyanoye davleniye v techeniye dnya , Petrov ," she observed wryly. _{Besides, I have not managed to raise your blood pressure for the day, Petrov.}_ "YA schitayu, chto eto budet sluzhit' dostoynoy popytkoy , net, Yuriy ?" _{I do believe this will serve as a decent attempt, no, Yuri?} _

"Nyet."

Upon hearing Faith's bodyguard speak, Sabrina's cheeks began to flush as she realized her egregious slight. "My apologies, Yuri. Good evening," she replied. As he always did, especially when in the presence of his sole charge, Faith, the stone-faced sentinel merely responded with an imperceptible yet curt nod. "You know what? This is great," Sabrina declared, "I have both of you here so this is perfect!"

"And why would that be so, dear heart?"

"Um, I need to know about security. Hotel security," she clarified, turning her attention to Yuri. "Specifically, is there surveillance in place at any of the family holdings? If so, what type? Audio? Video? Both? Or are only certain areas under certain types of surveillance?"

"Yesli takoy bezopasnosti sushchestvovala ," Petrov began, " i ya ne govoryu, eto proizoydet, spetsifika potrebuyetsya. Mesta , daty, vremya."_ {_**_If _**_such security existed, and I am not saying it does, specifics would be required. Locations, dates, times.}_

"Zi̱tó̱ syngnó̱mi̱ , páli , Yuri," Sabrina responded in Greek, "allá ro̱siká mou den eínai tóso áptaista ópo̱s tha éprepe na eínai." _{My apologies, again, Yuri, but my Russian is not as fluent as it should be.} _

"Net, eto ne tak," he responded, still speaking his mother tongue. _{No it is not.} _"Miss Sabrina," he added, his flint-like gaze impassive.

Barely suppressing her smile, Faith gracefully turned away; she appeared to suddenly be enthralled by some activity taking place amid the passing scenery. She was confident Sabrina knew better than to solicit assistance from her; that her headstrong young sister was fully aware, Matriarch or not, Faith would not intervene in this matter. For Faith to attempt to offer a translation of Yuri's statement, no matter how well-intentioned, her actions would be seen—and rightfully so—as a sign of disrespect; tantamount to usurping Petrov's authority.

That the scene currently unfolding—in addition to amusing her immensely—only served to highlight Stefan's continual warnings to Sabrina that she was doing herself a grave disservice by not learning their mother tongue was merely an added bonus for Faith.

Sabrina cleared her throat, inhaled slowly, and tried to focus. Fuck! Her Russian was about as good as her damn non-existent Mandarin._ Another _language Stefan no doubt felt it was "beneficial" for her to have learned!

Centering her thoughts she acknowledged it was not only fruitless but unreasonable to be frustrated with Yuri for speaking his native tongue. Granted, he was as fluent in Greek as was she; but truly, was it_ his _problem that in her arrogance and desire to slight her family_ she _had refused to learn her family's mother tongue? No, if she was frustrated, that emotion should be targeted in one direction and one direction only—towards_ herself_. Not Yuri.

Sabrina respected Yuri, not only for his discipline, loyalty to her brother (and the Cassadine family), and his work ethic that was beyond reproach. But, simply put she also possessed a healthy fear of him if for no other reason than the sheer carnage he was capable of unleashing—and was reported to have wreaked in times past—at her brother's behest.

"Yuriy, mne nuzhno znat', u nas v gostinitse ... bezopasnost'? Vy mozhete poluchit' dostup i sdelat' ... dublirovat' ?" _{Yuri, I need to know do we have hotel…security? You can access and make…duplicate?} _

Satisfaction flickered briefly across the lethal Russian's rugged features. It was, he noted silently, just as Master Stefan had always instilled when it came to the young Mistress, like her older sister Natasha, she would only produce the desired result when forced to—and only then when confronted with a will and strength greater than her own.

"Da," Yuri nodded. He held up a hand and continued in flawless Greek. "Eán i̱ epití̱ri̱si̱ ypí̱rche – kai den léo̱ óti to kánei – ypárchoun polloí parágontes pou exetázoun . Eidiká tha prépei na apaiteítai , ópo̱s i̱meromi̱níes , ó̱res kai topothesíes ..." _{_**_If _**_such surveillance existed – and I am not saying that it does – there are numerous factors to consider. Specifics would be required, such as dates, times, and locations…} _

"Málista," Sabrina nodded. _{I see.} _"Ómo̱s, i̱ parakoloúthi̱si̱ tha boroúse na prosengisteí ?̱ Íso̱s, off-site , an chreiasteí ? Eán , fysiká , éna tétoio prágma ypí̱rche ..." _{But the surveillance _**_could _**_be accessed; perhaps, off-site, if need be? _**_If_**_, of course, such a thing existed…} _

Yuri gave an imperceptible nod of his head. "Akrivó̱s." _{Exactly.} _

For the first time since leaving Maison Blanche, Sabrina smiled. A smile of genuine contentment.

**[A/N: Casting for Faith Ward Cassadine - Vanessa Williams (**_**Desperate Housewives**_**; **_**Ugly Betty**_**); casting for Yuri Petrov - Daniel Craig (**_**Skyfall**_**; **_**The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo**_**; **_**The Quantum of Solace**_**)-Pam]**


	12. Chapter 12

**[A/N: The character of Andresj' Cassadine is the creation (and appears with the permission) of jrsgirl-Pam]**

Get Here: Chapter 12

Comfortable silence reigned as—always—hand in hand the newlyweds exited the Conservatory and made their way along the dimly lit halls of the estate's West wing; the couple who had joined them for the evening's impromptu "anniversary" celebration strolled a few feet ahead, conversing in hushed tones that were occasionally peppered by muffled peals of feminine laughter.

"Do you think they'd mind terribly if we didn't join them for a stroll along Spoon Lake?"

Alexis Davis Taggert's query was met with a knowing chuckle from her husband of almost two years, Detective Marcus Taggert. A broad, indulgent smile spreading across his toffee colored features, he eased his hand from within hers, snaking it about her waist to draw her shapely form to his, her back pressed against the muscled planes of his chest and abdomen.

"They'd have to first notice we're_ here_, Lex," he murmured.

Leaning in, Marcus placed a soft kiss along the area of her neck he knew could all but cause her knees to buckle, making sure to allow the scruff of his five o'clock shadow to sweep along the region as well. Just as the handsome law enforcement officer expected, his wife serenaded him with a breathy sigh as his mouth lingered upon the area for a few seconds more before his teeth nipped the lightly trembling expanse of flesh. Marcus knew that sound. He_ loved _that sound. What he had not anticipated, however, was the slow, deliberate grind of Alexis' behind against his crotch, the act only serving to increase the bulge in his jeans.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, Detective." Alexis moaned softly as she gave a particularly sinuous swirl of her hips against his straining erection. "But based upon what I'm feeling it's in your best interest they_ don't _notice us." She paused, the wicked smile upon her lips accompanied by soft, knowing laughter as she turned in his loose embrace. "Or should I say_ you_?" Her fingers lightly danced along the outline of the tumescence desperate to be freed from the confines of Marcus' button-fly Levi's.

"Lex,_ don't_…" he warned through gritted teeth. Even as seemingly of their own volition his hips thrust back against her hand.

"What?" Her brown orbs glittering with delight, she feigned innocence as she gazed up at him. "So you're saying you'd rather we go for a moonlight stroll…instead of going back to our suite and letting me show you the gift I got your for our 18 month anniversary?" She didn't wait for his answer but instead began to saunter away in the opposite direction. "Did I mention I'm_ wearing _it?" Turning to face him, she continued to back away as she slowly began to undo the buttons of the white silk blouse with one hand as the other reached behind to unzip the coal black Prada skirt. "I mean what** little **there is of it…"

"Hey, you two!" Marcus called over his shoulder to their dinner companions as he took off after his unrepentant temptress. When he caught up with her, deftly he drew Alexis back and maneuvered her so that her body obscured the now blatant evidence of his arousal. "We're gonna pass on the lakeside stroll!" He spoke as if he had five seconds to utter five minutes worth of information. "Thanks for joining us for dinner! 'Nite!"

# # # # #

The couple being addressed looked back just in time to see Marcus and Alexis hastily bend the corner leading to the maze of halls that would take them to the wing of the estate that housed the family suites.

"And then, it was just you and I." Bowing slightly at the waist, Andresj' Cassadine winked then gallantly offered his arm to the dark-haired young woman at his side. "Shall we?"

"Yes, we shall!" Emily Quartermaine beamed as she linked her arm in his. "I guess it's safe to say your Thea and Uncle wanted to be alone, huh?"

"That would be an accurate presumption. But the more pressing question should be will they make it back to their suite before their desire for each other consumes them?"

"Well, rumor has it Wyndemere is full of hidden passages." Emily looked over at Andresj' as they journeyed along the hallway and grinned. "All they need to do is_ find _one…"

"You speak as if you have, shall we say…_intimate _knowledge of said passageways," Andresj' intoned. His gaze serious he studied the young Quartermaine heiress. "Tell me, Em. Just **what **exactly went on between you and my brother Koyla when you would come for…riding lessons?"

"What?!" she gasped. "Oh, no, 'Dre!" Emily's steps screeched to a halt and she wrenched her arm free from Andresj's as if his were made of molten rock. Her cheeks were practically vermillion. "I would never! I mean, like I said…that's what I_ heard_! Nikolas and I…we…**never**…" Her words trailed off, her once saucer-sized, expressive eyes narrowing as she watched Andresj' just barely keep the corners of his mouth from curving into a smile. "That is_ not _funny, 'Dre!" she wailed, swatting his Armani clad arm even as she joined him in laughter.

"I would say I am sorry, Emily," he offered, still laughing as he extended his arm once more, "but I do so enjoy teasing you…far too much to apologize! Besides, you make it so easy to—"

His words trailed off as they strolled past the West wing's library and he noticed the shadows dancing along the wall. Save that which was supplied by the fire, the room was devoid of light. There were two members of Andresj's family who always viewed the library as a place of sanctuary. His beloved Koyla, his brother Nikolas, was in Greece on family business, so that ruled him out. Thus, the room's occupant could only be one person.

"'Dre, are you alright?" Emily asked, worried. She followed his gaze in the direction of the imposing room.

"Yes," he nodded. Slowly he tore his gaze away and turned his attention back to Emily. He was beyond moved by the concern reflected in her eyes. "_I _am fine. But I fear someone else is not," he answered cryptically. "I apologize, Emily, but our plans for later this evening will have to be postponed."

It physically pained him to watch the flash of disappointment flicker across her face. For all the poise and quiet confidence she now possessed 'Dre silently marveled some things just were intrinsic; they could not be denied no matter how hard one tried. Such was the case with Emily. When dealing with those she loved or cared deeply for, the youngest Quartermaine saw no need to pretend with regards to her feelings; the emotional walls she ensured were fortified when dealing with others were easily scaled by those she opened—and gave—her heart to.

_'As she has done with_**_ you_**_,' _a tiny voice reminded him.

Andresj' was all too aware_ Emily _was aware of the subtle shift that had occurred between them—as well as within their friendship—over the past few weeks.

It became astoundingly evident to the intense 23 year-old Cassadine heir the gentle but passionate 17-soon-to be-18 year-old aspiring physician who left Port Charles in the Spring – amid the blustery protests of the family Patriarch, Edward, as part of a volunteer group offering aid to the small Indonesian village ravaged by yet another natural disaster – had undergone a transformation. Always in possession of a quiet strength, no doubt courtesy of the losses and challenges in her past, Emily departed an average, normal American teenager—well, as 'normal' as anyone amongst the_ Quartermaines _could be, Andresj' scoffed.

She returned from her unintentional "apprenticeship" nearly six months later very much a young_ woman_. Shy, at times—like now—even skittish, but womanly nonetheless.

"If you would not mind going ahead to wait for me in my suite, I promise I will not be long." His finger blazed a languorous yet sensual path along the alabaster expanse of the contours of her cheek. "You have my word, Em, I_ will _make it up to you."

"Your…did you say…suite?" She sent up a silent prayer of thanks she managed to utter the words without stammering. "But what about…you mean we're still going to watch the lake… I mean the moonlight?"

"The view of a full moon from my suite is incredible," Andresj replied, his voice low. "And when the room is plunged into darkness, with the draperies parted just so?" He paused, not for dramatic effect but as if savoring a most pleasant memory. "The moonlight streams into the room, glittering brilliantly as if its sole intent is to do so for my benefit." He smile was a thing of feral beauty as he looked down at a completely enraptured Emily. "But that will pale in comparison to the sight I shall behold this evening."

"What is that?" she rasped.

"That of you, Em. Beneath me…as I make love to you. Over and over and over again…" Smoothly Andresj' motioned and a guard, who Emily marveled seemed to materialize from the very shadows, stepped forward. "Anton, please escort Miss Quartermaine to my suite."

"Yes, Master Andresj'." The sentry gave a curt nod of his head. "If you will please follow me, Miss Quartermaine."

# # #

Slow, pensive steps carried Andresj' across the marble floor of the library until he came to rest beside the ornate high back chair opposite the fireplace. His gaze drifted to the chair's occupant, silently nursing a drink, apparently deep in thought. Wordlessly, he smoothly retrieved the tumbler and took a sip. Moments later, a slow, sibilant hiss escaped his lips.

"Does Papa know of this?" Andresj chided. "Whatever you are pondering must truly be serious, Thea, if you are consuming Papa's private reserve. . .and vodka no less."

"I. . .have a decision to make," Sabrina said softly.

"Sounds serious."

"It is."

"And this. . . 'decision,' is it also of a_ personal _nature?"

"How do you know," she smoothly reached for the tumbler, "it's not work-related?" Polishing off the remainder of the drink, she set the empty tumbler aside on the nearby table.

"Simple, Sabryn. Work—no matter how serious the situation—always equals wine for you. Always. If it's personal, as befits any Cassadine worth his—or her—ilk, a stronger spirit is required."

"**Always**," they laughed in unison.

"And, yet. . . I sense you are hesitant to make this decision, Sabryn." 'Dre's gaze, like Sabrina's, remained on the flames. "Tell me. Why is that so?"

"Simply put? I am afraid._ Terrified_, actually. And, ridiculously enough, for all the wrong reasons. The average woman would be terrified of what could be lost. Not me." She looked up at Andresj' and smiled but the act held no joy. "The thing that terrifies me most is all that I stand to gain. That I could actually be. . ."

"Happy?" Andresj' finished.

"Yes." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Thus, I am utterly and completely terrified."

"No, that is not true," he admonished softly. Extending his hand, he drew her to her feet so that they were face to face. "What you_ are _is Cassadine." His stare was unrelenting, as if by his very will he could dispel all her fears and doubts. "And what is it that we do?"

"Evaluate a situation," she replied. "Assess what needs to be done. . ."

"And we do it."

Gingerly, Sabrina cupped his chiseled cheeks within the warmth of her palms. At that moment, all she could manage was a weak smile to offer her thanks. "How_ did _you get to be so wise?"

Andresj returned her smile, again, silently willing her to draw strength from him, from its warmth. "For that, Thea, you may thank Papa."

"Yes," she answered softly, her voice thick with emotion. "I suppose I should."

The faint tingle of the shimmer of tears beginning to register, Sabrina regarded her beloved nephew in silence. So much of 'Dre's father could be seen in his face—and not just the physical resemblance. Looking at him at times for Sabrina was like seeing the Stefan of her and Tasha's youth; the young man they both had adored beyond human comprehension. In 'Dre's playful nature Sabrina was able to recall the brief period before Stefan wrestled power away from Helena; those rare, precious times when a hint of a smile present upon his handsome visage was far more common than the severe, stoic exterior that the world and most of the family (both extended and close) had come to know.

Yet behind the warm dark orbs of Stefan's youngest, she had no doubt lurked the very same tenacity and near super human single-mindedness that she as well as others both admired and cursed Stefan for. More often than not her thoughts were consumed with concern that her young nephew's existence not play out as his father's had; the better part of his life spent in sacrifice to the family, never fully pursuing nor knowing true love or happiness until his later years. Much the way, she noted, her own life seemed to be unfolding. Forcing aside those doubts and fears she summoned forth a smile one again, more of an attempt to ward off the worry she saw beginning to register in Andresj's eyes.

Smoothly, Andresj' captured first one then Sabrina's other hand and held them both easily clasped within his, bringing them to rest against his chest. "Talk to me, Thea. What is it that vexes you so?" His gaze bore into her glistening orbs; like his tone there was no doubt as to his demand for an answer.

"Pay me no mind." A watery smile accompanied the insistent shake of her head that sent her raven tresses dancing atop her shoulders. Cupping his face once more, Sabrina leaned in and kissed him softly, smiling her thanks. "Go, Andresj. Do not keep young Miss Quartermaine waiting. I just need a few more moments with my thoughts and then I shall turn in for the evening."

"So you have made your decision?"

"Yes," she nodded. "I have."

# # #

_Later. . ._

Sabrina made the familiar trek along the hallway towards the Master Suite. As well-known to her as her own reflection, like any other member of the Cassadine family she could find her way to any suite located within the maze that was the family wing of the estate even if blindfolded in a snow storm. But on this night instead of the usual lyrical, quick yet determined gait that was her signature, Sabrina's feet moved as if lead flowed through her veins. So preoccupied with her thoughts she did not even register the ever present sentry outside her brother's suite until he repeated his question.

"You wish to see Master Stefan?"

"No," she said. "I am here for Faith." She hastened to add the title to which all the staff referred to her by. "I meant, the Mistress."

"A moment, please, Miss Sabrina."

"Okay," she said.

Perplexed, her brow furrowed as she watched the guard depart. Normally, she didn't require being announced when she sought to visit either Faith or Stefan in their suite. One of them – Sabrina's money was on her ever-pragmatic brother – obviously had left instructions they were not to be disturbed. A few minutes later, the guard returned with Faith at his side, an expression etched upon her face that was a curious mix of confusion and concern. An imperceptible nod of Faith's head signaled to the guard he was no longer needed. As she stepped aside to allow Sabrina entry into the lone area of Wyndemere that was a place of sanctuary for her and her Dear Heart, Faith quietly assessed the current state of the sister of her heart.

"Sabryn, is everything alright?"

"Yes." Sabrina returned Faith's questioning gaze. "Why would you think otherwise?"

"Because," Faith cast a pointed glance at the exclusive timepiece that adorned Sabrina's left wrist, "it's nearly_ three a.m._, dear heart."

"It is?!" Sabrina was truly aghast, her horror etched upon her face and reflected in her voice. "Ohmygod!" she said. Her hand darted to her still agape mouth. "I had no idea!"

"Perhaps because your mind is focused solely on one thing and nothing else?" Faith prodded.

"Perhaps." The sigh Sabrina expelled contained a wealth of emotions; anxiety, fear, and most surprising of all, resignation. As she locked eyes with Faith it was that last reaction that resonated strongest. It was as if both women were of the same frame of mind; both acknowledging there was but only one way to the other side, only one way to be free of the emotional purgatory Sabrina now found herself in. Sabrina squared her shoulders and opened her right hand, extending the small rectangular object contained within to Faith. "Here you go. Everything you need is there. How much time do you think-"

"Twenty-four hours." Faith gave an elegant shrug of her shoulders. "Thirty-six at the absolute most." Before she had even spoken the next words, the beautiful software magnate's left brow began arching. "If you are having second thoughts, dear heart. . ."

Sabrina gave a hollow bark of laughter. "Second. . .third. . .even_ fifth _would be more like it." A soft, tremulous smiled accompanied the shake of her head. "But none of that matters. I_ have _to do this."

As Faith retrieved the item, she clasped Sabrina's faintly trembling hand within hers giving it a gentle, reassuring squeeze. "Try and not worry, Sabryn. What is meant to be shall be. Go, get some rest." Softly bussing her on each cheek, Faith then locked eyes with Sabrina once more. "No matter the outcome, Sabryn, at least you will be able to rest in the knowledge you made your intentions known."

**[A/N: The casting for Emily Quartermaine in my fanfic universe is Amber Tamblyn; her portrayal, in my opinion, is (and always will be) THE definitive Emily. :-) Casting for Andresj' Cassadine - Ricardo Crespo (****_Another_**** male model worth checking out on Google *g*)-Pam]**


	13. Chapter 13

Get Here: Chapter 13

Although carrying a mere garment bag, as she made her way along the stone hewn walkway leading to her spacious two-story home Audrey moved as if she were transporting the Shroud of Turin.

Then again, the cargo contained within was extremely precious to her. As was the party she was currently engaged in a most animated conversation with.

"Sweetheart, guess what? Hold on. Give me just a second. . ." Phone cradled against her shoulder, with her right eye squinted shut she concentrated on attempting once again to slide her key into her front door's seemingly uncooperative keyhole—all the while having the garment bag draped across both arms. "Almost. . . got. . . it. . . Dammit! Missed again!"

The rumble of distant thunder caused Audrey to gnaw at the inside of her jaw, a telltale sign the normally unflappable government contractor was nervous. The last thing she needed to contend with was rain—now or later. Her insides felt as if they were in knots as she wondered which would be the worse catastrophe: stuck outside her home and thus subjecting the contents of the garment bag to what appeared to be a torrential downpour looming on the horizon; or, if the weather persisted, having virtually nil turnout for her pre-nuptial celebration—scheduled to take place less than 48 hours from now. Expelling an aggravated breath that served to flip an errant lock of her blonde tresses out of her line of vision, fueled by frustration she gave the key a forceful turn and was rewarded with a blessed _*click*_ as the lock finally rotated. Safely inside, as she made her way to her bedroom Audrey resumed her conversation without missing a beat.

"I was updating the guest list and I received the last two RSVPs for the invites I sent out!" Audrey all but radiated joy and excitement as she recounted to Jack the names of several wedding guests whose attendance she was eagerly anticipating. Still cradling the phone against her ear, she draped the garment bag across her queen size bed and began to gingerly remove the floor length gown. "Can you believe that daddy actually bet me, I mean he went so far as to even say—tell me **to my face**—that I'd lose?" Her incredulous bark of laughter was accompanied by a triumphant yet rude noise. "Well, isn't _he_ gonna be in for a surprise? My father didn't think I could do it, but I did!" Boasting was far too pedestrian of a description for what she was currently engaged in. "I not only kept the number of guests under 100 but I'm just two shy of my target goal of 50."

She had every reason to take pride in keeping the guest list to a total of 50 attendees. Accomplishing such an act was neither a small nor an easy feat given the numerous connections, many political, that existed on both Audrey's and her father James' behalf due to their roles within the Department of Defense. As a result, Audrey made it explicitly clear to her father she in no way wanted the occasion of her wedding to serve as an opportunity for networking by those seeking to use the event as a means to bend the ear of the "third most powerful man at the White House" instead of the celebration of her committing to a life with Jack it was meant to be.

"I still have two invitations left. Which is what I wanted to talk with you about," she hedged. The slightest hint of uncertainty clouded her voice; not due to any doubts on her part. Rather, Audrey's lack of confidence could be traced to pondering Jack's reaction to the identities of the two potential guests. Reasoning there was no sense in trying to avoid the matter she decided to address what she considered to be the easier of the two explosives to diffuse. "I left a message for Paul's brother Gary to call me." Just as Audrey expected all that greeted her from Jack's end of the line was silence. Without the benefit of being face to face she was unable to determine if his response or lack thereof was evidence of anger or resignation. Undeterred, she pressed on. "I'd like to be able to tell him the truth, Jack—that I called to invite him to my wedding. But if you still are not comfortable-"

"I've got every reason _not_ to be 'comfortable,' Audrey," Jack interrupted. "Do you really think Gary's gonna want to come celebrate your marriage to the man who is responsible for the death of his brother?"

Audrey continued as if Jack had not even spoken. "Even when Paul and I were separated, Gary and I remained close." Her voice dropped almost to a whisper. "His friendship means a great deal to me, Jack," she said. A brief pause as she sighed. "That said, when he calls back I'd like to be able to tell him _real_ reason I called. But, if it's gonna be a big deal, sweetheart, I can always cover and tell him the reason for my call was I wanted him to hear the news from me – not in the press or from someone else – that I was getting married again." Reasoning that if she was already in for a penny she may as well be in for a pound, Audrey decided now was as good a time as any to address the other pink elephant in the room. "That still leaves me with one more invitation. Have you given any more thought to inviting Sabrina?"

Had he not been stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic on the 101, it was quite possible Jack's Suburban might have careened off the expressway upon hearing his fiancée's last question.

"You're really serious, Audrey?" Jack raked a hand through his hair, all the while shaking his head in disbelief. "I thought you were being. . .flip. . .just doing that thing women do when it comes to men's ex-lovers."

"_Yes_, I was being serious," Audrey replied. "I meant what I said when I told you I'm perfectly fine with her attending the wedding, Jack. Just like I meant it when I said I view this as an opportunity to start on a better note than we did when we first met." Audrey knew Jack was fully aware of the less than civil interaction between her and Sabrina when Sabrina performed the lifesaving surgery on Audrey's father.

"Audrey, sweetheart. . . your father asked Sabrina to be his personal physician, not marry him."

"I'm aware of that, Jack," Audrey said. Her voice held the slightest hint of exasperation. "But the fact of the matter is we'll eventually all be crossing paths anyway. Or have you forgotten she'll be traveling with my father – at the President's request no less, mind you – when he's out of the country as her schedule allows. And when daddy travels, there's always a really good chance that means _I_ travel. This could be a chance for us to. . .I don't know, bury the hatchet?"

"Yeah, square in the center of each other's forehead," Jack muttered.

"Well, at least you're cracking jokes about it," she noted playfully. "And that's a start. We can talk about it more, tonight over dinner. . ."

# # #

_Later that evening. . . _

The mouthwatering scents of chipotle, lime, and cumin were accompanied by a symphony of stainless steel lids clanking, the unmistakable hiss and sizzle of marinated meat as it kissed the molten surface of a grill, and the rapid-fire _*rat-a-tat-tat-tat*_ of a scalpel-sharp knife blade as it shredded the tightly coiled green leaves, in the process introducing the cilantro's crisp, fragrant scent into the mix. A dishtowel thrown over his left shoulder, Jack moved about the spacious yet cozy kitchen with the ease and speed of a seasoned chef.

"You know, Audrey, when told me to come over for dinner, I had no idea I'd be the one doing the cooking!" Jack called out.

"Can I help it if I'm addicted to your quesadillas?"

"And the truth comes out at last!" he grinned. Jack looked up from his efforts to see Audrey pad barefoot into the room, clad in an oversized Yale t-shirt. "You only want me for my skills in the kitchen!"

"This is true," Audrey teased. She sauntered by, snagging a sliced bell pepper from the nearby assortment of sliced and diced onions, mushrooms, and red, green, and yellow bell peppers. Letting the jade colored sliver dangle from her lips, she leaned in wriggling her brows suggestively. Moments later, she and Jack were engaged in an imitation of the iconic "spaghetti kiss" scene from the animated classic _Lady and the Tramp_. The kiss dissolved into soft laughter from both parties as Audrey snaked her arms about his neck. "I also want you for your skills in the bedroom. You're pretty darn good in there, too," she winked, extracting herself from Jack's embrace. "In fact," she tossed over her shoulder, "if you weren't in here looking like you're auditioning for Iron Chef, I'd have you come upstairs and we could start practicing for our wedding night…"

She did not see Jack lower the flame on the stovetop then step away from the grill. She did not bear witness to the feral gleam in Jack's eyes, nor the knowing smile of arousal beginning to spread across his handsome features. Not until with lightning speed he had closed the distance between them and spun her around, crushing her body to his. The tenderness of Jack's kiss was a stark contrast to his startling act from moments earlier for Audrey. Their lips met once more, this time for a slow, lazy kiss that soon began to deepen. Jack's tongue at first teasingly, then insistently explored her mouth.

The soft moan his actions elicited from Audrey was all the encouragement he needed. If he had any doubts as to Audrey's desire that he continue, his confirmation was evident in the feel of the hardened peaks of her beasts straining against the fabric of her shirt. Moments later amid her gasp of surprise as he broke off the kiss, Jack deftly drew her shirt over her head. There she stood in the center of her kitchen, nude, her chest heaving lightly in response to her arousal, wisps of her blonde tresses framing her face. Jack was mesmerized by the almost fragile sensuality of the moment.

"You're so beautiful right now," he murmured. Instinctively, Audrey sought to cover her now nude body; her hands strategically darting high and low to cover her breasts and crotch, respectively. "Sweetheart, _don't. . ._" Jack's voice was like gravel as he gently pried Audrey's hands away from the treasures she sought to deny him. "Let me look at you." Still holding her hands, he took a step back, his gaze nothing short of ravenous as his eyes roamed the body he knew so well. "Let me feel you." His gaze locked with hers as he drew the dishtowel from his shoulder and began to trail its fringed ends along first her collarbone, then across her chest, and finally between the valley of her breasts. A masculine smile of satisfaction tugged at the corner of his mouth as he watched her ivory flesh begin to pebble. "Let me taste you." Lowering his head to her breast, he took its soft rosy peak into his mouth, lazily sucking the pebbled tip, laving it with his tongue before releasing the now hardened, sensitive flesh.

Audrey whimpered from both the loss of the warmth of Jack's mouth at her breast, and the feel of him smoothly sliding two fingers between the folds of her aroused sex. When he stealthily slid first one then two fingers inside her, she cried out in surprise; not in response to his fingers' slow, steady invasion but the growl that tore from Jack's throat.

"So tight," he hissed, his breath warm in her ear, "so wet. . ." All the while he continued to mimic the slow, steady thrusts he knew she loved.

Seconds later, her cry of surprise gave way to one of protest as she felt him withdraw his fingers then raise them, glistening with her essence, to his mouth. Audrey made a face, shaking her head as if disgusted. "Jack, no!" she gasped. She reached for his hand, drawing it away from his mouth, taking great care not to touch his slickened fingers.

Jack was brought up short. He took a deep breath, trying his best to keep the mood from slipping away. "Sweetheart, I will never understand why you react this way." Although irritated, his voice remained calm, soothing. "What's to be offended by?" Jack asked. "It's not like it's another woman's juices I'm tasting-"

"Jack!" Audrey exclaimed, cutting him off. "That's so. . ._vulgar_," she cringed. "Do you have to refer to it as. . . that?" Arms wrapped about her frame, her gaze swept the room looking for her shirt; looking everywhere but at Jack. She couldn't. It was difficult enough for her to think about what he wanted to do, she surmised; looking at him while he _talked_ about it was next to impossible.

"What, you prefer I refer to it as your 'bodily fluids' or 'secretions' instead? I mean, yeah, that's what it is. . .if you insist on being so clinical about it. But this isn't science, sweetheart. This is me. . .," he raised his fingers to his mouth once more, deliberately savoring the taste of her as he held her gaze, "_loving_ you, Audrey. Not giving you a damn annual." His voice softening, he crooked a finger beneath her chin and directed her gaze back his way. "Sweetheart, don't you want to know what it is I taste that keeps me between your thighs? What can have me down there for _hours_, if you'd let me?"

"The food, Jack. . ."

"Fuck the food," he growled. Snaking his arm around her bare waist he drew her body to his, making sure she felt the evidence of his desire for her. "_You_ are what I wanna eat, okay?" he said.

"Actually," she began to gingerly ease from his embrace, "it's more like burn the food. . ." Audrey nodded towards the stovetop grill, directing Jack's attention towards the strips of flank steak that were on the verge of becoming charred. She all but breathed a sigh of relief as Jack prepared to turn his attention back to the meal.

"You're lucky." He claimed her mouth for a bruising kiss, lightly nipping her lower lip as the kiss ended. "But don't worry, we'll pick this back up later tonight, Mrs. soon-to-be-Bauer. . .," he vowed as he made his way to the grill.

"I…I. . .can't wait," Audrey replied shakily. It was all she could do not to wretch knowing she had actually tasted herself. Silently, she was taking a mental inventory of her medicine cabinet, wondering if she had any Listerine.

Jack looked up from his efforts at the grill. "Hey, you okay?"

"Yeah, I. . .I'm just. . .cold," she covered. Her arms were wrapped tightly about her chest as she furiously rubbed her arms.

In his passion-fueled haze, Audrey's shirt had been tossed aside, and could be dangling from the top of one of the cabinets or the lighting fixtures for all Jack knew. "Oh, sweetheart, I'm sorry," he said. Jack lowered the flame on the grill again then smoothly reached behind and drew his t-shirt over his head. Closing the distance between them, he mockingly bowed then gallantly offered the shirt to Audrey.

Hastily, she donned the cotton t-shirt, unable to meet his gaze the entire time. "Well," she shrugged as she shifted nervously from foot to foot, "I'd better let you get back to our meal." She sniffed the air, the scent of lightly charred meat invading her senses; making her eyes water ever so slightly and her nostrils tingle. "Well, what's left of it," she shrugged. "Sorry about that," she added sheepishly.

"Don't be." Jack's piercing stare didn't waver in the slightest. "I'm not." His gaze softening, he quietly regarded Audrey once more. "You _sure_ you're okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," she nodded, almost too emphatically. "See you in a bit."

She leaned in to kiss him, this time on the cheek. As she walked away, Audrey glanced back at Jack and found him still watching her, a pensive look upon his face that soon gave way to a soft smile. Waving, she returned his smile. The moment she bent the corner, the smile evaporated; in its place, a look that was a strange mixture of apprehension and confusion. She couldn't even begin to try and process what just took place in the kitchen.

_'For goodness sakes. . ._**_in the kitchen_**_. . .of all places?'_ she marveled in horror.

# # # # #

As she trudged up the stairs to her bedroom – she was suddenly desperate for a shower – Audrey wracked her brain wondering as to the cause of Jack's behavior; if perhaps he'd had a particularly rough mission his last time out and the kitchen quickie was some sort of "outlet" for his pent up, unresolved emotions and issues? To her dismay that possibility was quickly dismissed when she remembered Jack's last mission had been nearly six months ago. Moreover, effective three weeks ago, as a "gift" from his fellow agents, he was officially out of the Field Ops rotation until after the wedding. Perhaps it was a really _old_ mission that was haunting him and he was having some sort of 'flashback,' she reasoned.

Whatever it was, she noted, he wasn't himself. But she wasn't worried. She was just. . .concerned. And while she wasn't afraid of Jack – she knew to her core he'd never lay a hand on her – Audrey could not deny she did _not_ like this side of him. She entered the bathroom and made a bee-line for the shower. Occasionally she'd dart her hand beneath the spray of water, adjusting the controls until she had the water at just the right temperature and pressure.

Satisfied when she saw steam billowing forth, she removed Jack's t-shirt. As she prepared to deposit it into the nearby laundry bin, for some unknown reason, she raised the cotton material to her nose and inhaled. Seconds later, she recoiled in disgust, the scent of onions, peppers, and something not quite fragrant yet not entirely musky either assaulting her olfactory senses.

Using the offending shirt, she wiped away the steam-covered portion of the mirror to afford her a glimpse of her reflection. She wasn't sure of what was happening with Jack, but she was confident whatever made him act the way he did downstairs, it was only a temporary thing; just something he needed to get out of his system, she reminded herself. And once he did, then he'd be back to the Jack she knew and loved.

_Everything_, she reminded herself, was going to be perfect. . .

# # #

_The next afternoon. . ._

There were moments in every person's life when the call to 'just leave well enough alone' had to be ignored; the temptation to reach for not just a little bit more but rather to have it all needed—no, it demanded—to be answered. This—her upcoming wedding to Jack—Audrey reasoned was such a moment. After all, she'd endured too much pain, fought too hard, and waited too damn long for a life with him. As far as Audrey was concerned, she **deserved** this moment!

_Everything was going to be perfect. . . _

Audrey ran a hand across the exquisite fabric and smoothed down the lines of the ivory colored gown. As she studied her reflection in the antique cherry finished cheval floor mirror, turning every now and then to observe herself from varying angles, the lissome blonde could not find fault with the image before her.

The designer garment which draped her 5' 8" frame was understated but not matronly; showcasing her trim physique but not drawing so much attention to her tastefully fit form as to make her appear tawdry or whorish. No, the image she sought to project—as always—was reserved yet refined

_Everything was going to be perfect. . . _

In 18 days she and Jack would stand before a small group of family, friends, and colleagues, finally declaring to the heavens and the world their love for each other; that she was his and vice versa. _Forever_. At that last thought, she allowed herself a small, triumphant smile. The smile broadened as her gaze fell upon the two unaddressed ivory envelopes atop her bedside table.

Audrey gave no heed to the small, insistent voice warning her that sometimes in letting 'well enough' suffice one actually managed to gain more than was needed. She wasn't interested in "more"; her sights were firmly set on having _everything_. And she knew exactly how to achieve her goal, had already set the wheels in motion.

Her gaze once again fell upon the envelopes. Each contained a lone invitation that had yet to be delivered. In truth from the very beginning Audrey's intent all along had been to ensure the delivery of only _one_ of the two invitations. Audrey knew when she contacted Paul's brother Gary he would not be able to attend due to scheduling conflicts. Extending an "invite" to him was all a ruse to lay the groundwork for her true target: Jack's former lover, Sabrina. And while Audrey overall deplored contact with her late husband's younger brother (their visits always wound up leaving Audrey emotionally drained), she was willing to 'lose the battle'—sacrifice, and endure a drawn-out, stilted, awkward conversation or two—in order to 'win the war.'

And to Audrey, there would be no sweeter victory than that of watching as Jack's insufferably arrogant ex-lover looked on while Jack vowed to spend the rest of his days loving, honoring and cherishing _her_, Audrey. Granted, Jack had yet to say yes; but hadn't said no, either, she reasoned. As a result, Audrey had every confidence he'd come around. Oh, yes! Again, she smiled.

_Everything was going to be _**_perfect_**_. . . _


	14. Chapter 14

Get Here: Chapter 14

_It was like having a ringside seat for a train wreck_…and watching said horror take place in slow motion.

As she watched the people mill about, laughing and mingling, prudent thought dictated she turn away from such impending carnage, if for no other reason than to extend the basic act of sympathy to the soon-to-be grievously injured party. Yet an all-too-familiar inner demon – one fueled by a mixture of both perverse delight and morbid curiosity – bade her _not_ to avert her gaze. Yet, any plans she may have had to bear witness to the impending theater of pain were derailed as the sound of a most hypnotic baritone held her positively enraptured.

"Should I be jealous, Beloved?" Stefan Cassadine's voice held the faintest trace of mirth as he beheld the glint of mischief still dancing in his wife's eyes; she was seated at his desk, her slender fingers furiously rapping out a rhythm against the keys of her laptop. "Something, and not of my doing, is undoubtedly responsible for that smile of pure, unadulterated satisfaction that now adorns your visage."

His emerald gaze washing over Faith, with an economy of motion Stefan closed the distance between them and rounded his desk. No sooner had he come to rest behind Faith, placing his strong, well-manicured hands atop her slender shoulders, than with the click of several keys she had closed out the series of screens she'd been working from and powered off the custom-designed notebook, all in less than five seconds.

"It is nothing you need be concerned with, Dear Heart." Smiling as she rose from the desk, Faith was all too willing to surrender herself to the confines of her husband's embrace. The last several days had been more hectic than normal for them both; it seemed as if they only encountered each other as of late when turning in for bed at night and rising in the morning. As it were, the hour was nearing nine p.m.; if this night proved to be anything like the ones preceding it, Faith dared not hope her husband's evening would conclude before midnight. Still, if only for several stolen minutes, she cherished time alone with her Dear Heart.

Her smile, so warm and inviting, was a thing of matchless beauty to Stefan, rivaling even the power of her mesmerizing baby blue orbs, which never failed to still his breath. It was not the cordial, formal "smile" reserved for dealings with the Cassadine clan as a whole; nor was it the soft, oftentimes playful smile she bestowed upon those in the immediate family. No. This smile was _his_ and his alone. It represented that side, that part of his Beloved she expressed to and shared with no one but _him_. That smile, much like the amazing, maddening, resilient woman to whom it belonged, was and would always be his true sanctuary.

Stefan quirked a curious brow as he removed his suit coat, then stepped away to drape it across the nearby chaise lounge. "Would this 'nothing' by chance have anything to do with Sabryn's early morning visit from a few days ago?"

"Inquire all you wish, Dear Heart," Faith said. Her laughter sang to him, serving to further enchant him. "I shall never tell!"

"So you say now, Beloved." First his gaze darkened, then his voice dropped dangerously low; both acts made all the more enticing to Faith by the small feral smile that began to etch its way across his marvelous mouth. Slowly, his gaze riveted to Faith's the entire time as he made his way back to her Stefan began to undo the French cuffs of his tailored dress shirt. "But I have ways—all pleasurable; some. . ._intensely_ so—of making you talk, Beloved." The only sound that could be heard in the suite was that of Stefan's monogrammed cuff links as he precisely deposited first one then the other atop the mahogany desktop. Smoothly, Stefan encircled his arms about Faith, expertly turning her in his embrace so that seconds later she had the press of his taut, toned frame against the back of hers.

Faith could only sigh with blessed contentment, her body reverberating from the frisson that commenced upon hearing his words. They had been married four years yet times such as this, she marveled, made it seem as if they were but mere days into matrimony. She loved and desired him as strongly now as she did the moment she realized he was "It" for her, or the moment she said "I do."

"Then by all means, my Dearest Heart." As she allowed her body to relax against Stefan's, Faith's smile was equal parts challenge and anticipation. A mirror image of her husband's. "Please, do your best."

"I would never deign to bring before you anything less, Beloved." Stefan's mouth danced along the side of Faith's throat. "Never."

_*ding* *ding* *ding*_

Just as Faith was poised to turn in Stefan's embrace, fully intent on showing him her appreciation for the loving albeit torturous attention he had given to her throat, the melodic series of chimes from her laptop halted her actions. Holding up a slender finger, she silently requested her husband's compliance.

"This will take but only a few moments, Dear Heart. I promise!"

Upon opening the laptop, Faith pressed the pad of her left thumb against the center panel of the touchpad, executing a series of keystrokes with her free hand. After a few seconds and a quick series of scans of the area (all to the tune of a computerized version of Zapp's R&B classic _Computer Love_) the last screen Faith had previously been viewing reappeared onscreen, affording her a brilliantly crisp view of the entire banquet hall of the establishment her software program had been monitoring the past 48 hours.

Meticulous to the point of madness, Faith had checked, double, then _triple_ checked the program she installed to infiltrate and eventually override all the facility's electrical systems. The melodic chimes was her software's way of making her aware things were about to "go live"; she had specifically engineered the program to notify her the moment either the audio or visual systems were in use. Gaining access to said systems had been so easy that for the briefest of seconds she wondered if she was about to make her insanely sought-after software (and thus by extension, _herself_) vulnerable to sabotage. Such was not the case. She soon came to realize she was merely dealing with a security system that was not only pitifully outdated but also embarrassingly inferior in comparison to even the most remedial of programs.

The most critical component of the operation—the placement of data—had already been put in place; the remainder was merely a matter of timing and, most importantly, execution. While it was not exactly the same as tossing a grenade – this particular endeavor required a delicate touch – the end result most certainly would resonate with equal if not exceeding force.

She just had to find the _right_ moment. . .

No sooner had the thought registered than the opportunity presented itself. As Faith watched several couples make their way towards the dance floor she realized there was no time like the present. The targets were within range; this she knew to be true courtesy of the thermal monitoring. She didn't need them in a specific location; she just needed them _there_. Again, a series of keystrokes ensued followed by a pop-up menu containing an almost cruelly rhetorical query:

**DO YOU WISH TO PROCEED? IF NO, CANCEL THIS ACTION ****NOW****!**

_'Go big, dear heart. . .or go home!'_ she mused silently as she hit the "Enter" key.

As she heard the familiar opening strains of piano soon followed by the flawless vocals of songbird Oleta Adams as she sang her lover could reach her by railway, that he could reach her by Trailway, Faith could not prevent the cry of pure delight that tore from her throat.

"**Ohhhh, my!**"

A more perfect backdrop for what was to transpire could not have been created if she had tried to do so. As she initialized the timer Faith reasoned Fate truly did have a most wicked sense of humor. In less than 240 seconds that would be far truer than any of the players on its stage could even begin to imagine.

# # # # #

_It was like having a ringside seat for a train wreck. . ._

The desire to give in to morbid curiosity and watch the 'train wreck' to come was almost too much to resist. The feel of her husband's warm breath tickling her ear as he splayed his hand at her abdomen, drawing her against his body and allowing her to feel the unmistakable evidence of his desire for her proved far more impossible to ignore.

Besides, she was recording everything; she could always go back and watch. . .

"Is there something which requires your attention, Beloved?"

"No, Dear Heart. I am merely assisting in ensuring a most important message got delivered. That was a notification of sorts things are about to get underway."

"Then I would be correct in presuming we shall have no further interruptions. . . for the remainder of the evening?" Stefan's touch like his voice was pure seduction as he deftly began to unzip the exquisite slate gray Narciso Rodriguez dress, desperate to relieve Faith of the designer garment.

As Faith turned to look over her shoulder at Stefan, a slow, almost incredulous nod of her head brought a smile of supreme satisfaction to Stefan's face. Rare were the moments when he could say he was able to truly surprise his Beloved. It was almost nine p.m.; his late evening meetings had been cancelled due to scheduling conflicts for his overseas associates. What had been slated to occupy several hours of Stefan's considerably valuable time was now no more and the head of Cassadine Industries found himself with what amounted to—for a man with as schedule such as his—an entire evening free. And a most desirable mate literally within his reach.

"Thus, it is accurate to conclude your endeavor was successful?" His lips danced lightly along the planes of her shoulder. He paused, unable to resist the sublime feel of her supple flesh against his mouth, and offered up a faint nip of the smooth expanse. His reward was a tremulous sigh that soon gave way to a slow moan.

"As one of my favorite fictional characters is so fond of saying, Dear Heart," Faith purred, "_'I _**_love_**_ it when a plan comes together_'!"

# # #

The ballroom of the Lancaster buzzed with the sounds of celebration. Soft Jazz (piped in, not live; that was being saved for the wedding reception) served as the backdrop for bottles of expensive champagne being opened; stemware and crystal tumblers clinking in toasts; raucous laughter; and, of course, conversation...

"I sure hope they have better food at the wedding," Morris O'Brian sneered, his British accent serving to almost exaggerate his condescension. Nevertheless, he retrieved several of the hors d'oeuvres from the tray of a passing server. "I mean, really, _prunes_. . . as an appetizer?" He held the pork enveloped dried fruit aloft, examining it with disdain before unceremoniously depositing it into his mouth.

"They're called devils on horseback," his estranged wife Chloe sighed.

"Plus, they're wrapped in bacon," Michelle Dessler-Almeida chimed in. "And as every carnivore worth his or her salt knows, bacon makes _everything_ better!"

"So says the woman eating for an army," Morris cracked, sailing an amused gaze at Michelle's distended belly.

"Well, I guess it's safe to say you folks are enjoying yourselves?" Jack observed wryly as he stopped by the group's table. "Glad you all could make it." He cast a sympathetic glance at Chloe who looked as if she was about to undergo a root canal sans anesthesia. "Don't worry, Chloe. This shouldn't go on much longer. We'll have you out of here in time to catch _Mythbusters_, okay?"

"Thanks, but I'm DVRing it." Chloe sheepishly smiled at her longtime colleague and friend. "If I seem antsy it's because you know how I am with crowds, Jack. I don't like them." A shrug of her shoulders was preceded by a gaze that was somewhere in the vicinity of glazed and bored as her face contorted into that awkward mask of bemused indifference that was her trademark. "Besides, I really wanted to be here for you. Oh, and Audrey, too," she hastened to add. "It's actually been a really nice party so far." A slight pause. "Well, except for the food." Crooking her finger, she motioned for Jack to come closer. "Um, you might want to tell Audrey for the wedding reception, she may want to consider including. . ._vegetarian_ options? Not all of us in attendance enjoy consuming charred flesh, you know."

"Yeah, I'll do that, Chloe," Jack chuckled. "I didn't have any hand in planning this—the whole thing was Audrey's show—but I'll make sure to pass your suggestion on to her." Across the way he saw the woman in question motioning for him. "If you folks will excuse me, my presence is being requested by the lady of the hour." He'd taken no more than a few steps when he turned back to address his colleagues. "Just in case I don't get back this way before the party ends, thanks for coming, guys."

On the heels of Jack's departure, Tony arrived bearing two large plates of assorted fresh fruit; cantaloupe, honeydew, strawberries, and pineapple to name a few. As he sat the plates down before his wife, Michelle, Tony leveled a steely gaze at Morris who was seated next to her. "Unless you're going for the strawberries, then don't even _think_ about poaching, Morris," Tony warned.

"I'm _allergic_ to strawberries, Almeida," he replied dryly. "Remember? Throat closes up; I go into a little thing called anaphylactic shock?"

"Damn, I forgot." Tony proceeded to grin broadly. "In that case, have 'em all!" He and Michelle high-fived each other as Morris merely rolled his eyes then cast a longing gaze towards the near-overflowing plates. "Michelle has been craving honeydew and cantaloupe all week," Tony said, as he took a sip of his drink, "and she will rip you limb from _limb_ if you snag even the smallest piece of fruit from either of those plates!"

"You mean they're _both_ for her?" Morris turned his gobsmacked gaze on Michelle. "God save the queen, woman! What are you carrying, a Land Rover?!"

"Explain to me again how it is you _ever_ managed to get a woman to have sex with you, Morris—without having to pay for it?" Michelle shot back. "No disrespect, Chloe," she added, in between bites of the sweet melons.

"None taken," Chloe replied dourly. "As you can see, my charming husband is in rare form tonight."

Chloe sent up a silent prayer of thanks Morris was still faithful to his meetings at AA. Going on six years sober, she knew their present separation had done nothing to ease what had no doubt been a most difficult journey. For both of them. But it was in a setting such as this – surrounded by others enjoying the very temptation that so easily had the power to lead him into destruction – where others may have been at their wits end with her prickly husband, Chloe was able to give him a wide berth. Morris did not function well when stifled or reined in. And Chloe knew, from firsthand experience, whenever the attempt to do so was made the outcome could be incredibly frustrating, humiliating, and a whole other host of adjectives. Still, she had to admit to harboring just a slight case of nerves. By her estimation they still had a good hour or so left before the party was over and if Morris was like this now (his "bored" phase), she didn't even want to entertain what he'd be like when he was bored _and_ irritable.

"You know, Chloe luv, it's not too late for us to bug out of here. I'd as soon be spending the evening over at Taco John's." He dismissed the look of disbelief she sailed his way. "What? Ten Buck Taco Nite is a win-win; all the tacos you can eat for $10, plus half-priced pitchers! Sounds like a good and proper feast for someone like me who avoids kitchen labor at all costs. Not to mention _cheap_, since I'll forego the suds. And best of all? No prunes!" he declared as he polished off the last hors d'oeuvre. "What more can you ask for?"

"I don't know. . . that the tacos actually be made of real _meat_ maybe?" Curtis taunted as he took a seat at the table.

"You know, I am sick and tired of you berating my fast food choices, Manning," Morris griped. "Just because we aren't all walking walls of muscle like you-"

"Hey, hey, you two. . .enough!" Michelle demanded. "You know what? Nevermind." Upon hearing the faint strains of piano flowing from the speakers she decided she'd much rather spend her time in her husband's arms. "Tony, sweetheart," she turned to her spouse, "what do you say we go take a spin on the dance floor?"

# # #

"You summoned, m'lady?" Jack grinned.

"It's good to see you smiling again," Audrey said softly, cupping the side of his face.

She took it as a 'sign' he was returning back to his old self and the unseemly sexual antics from several nights earlier were all but a thing of the past. Smoothly draping her arm within his, she basked in having him at her side. For the better part of the evening rarely had Jack been more than a few feet away. As they moved about the room, Audrey nodding and smiling her thanks to all they came in contact with, she would occasionally place her free hand at the breast pocket of Jack's cobalt blue suit coat; totally oblivious to the fact she did so only when encountering female guests.

The act was not lost on Jack but he said nothing; he had resolved tonight was "her night" and he would willingly commit to being the arm candy, trophy, or whatever she required him to be. Whatever it took to please her and make the moment sweeter. For her. The gathering held no particular joy for Jack; in the sense it was merely just another social event—something he was never particularly partial to. He would reserve his excitement for the wedding reception; even though he knew if on a scale of 1-10 Audrey was currently an 8 in terms of control, anxiety, and overall nerves, on _that_ day she would be a 15, and that was if he were to give a conservative estimate. Still, he could not begrudge her this moment. As he beheld the smile of love and contentment adorning her features he resolved a "dog and pony show" was the least he could endure for his future wife.

Audrey for her part found it hard to form a coherent thought whenever she gazed up into Jack's azure pools. He tended to have that effect on her, but as of late it only seemed to intensify. She knew why. A little over two weeks from now they'd be married; the fulfilment of a dream deferred for far too long, in the attractive blonde's opinion. Soon, she'd have the life she wanted with the man she wanted.

Life was, in a word, perfect.

"Dance with me, Jack?" Audrey knew her husband-to-be would be defenseless in the wake of the brilliant smile she graced him with.

"Of course, sweetheart," Jack answered, smiling. "How can I refuse a smile like that?" He leaned in to steal a quick kiss. "But then you knew that," he murmured against her mouth, laughing softly, "didn't you?"

"Maybe. . .perhaps. . .possibly," she teased. Drawing back, she joined him in laughter. "Okay, yes!" Her laughter ceased as she gave pause to the opening strains of piano from an unfamiliar tune. "Hmm. . .I don't recall adding that song to my playlist." She shrugged. "But it is lovely, especially the piano if I remember the song correctly."

~*~_You can reach me by railway__  
><em>_You can reach me by Trailway__  
><em>_You can reach me on an airplane__  
><em>_You can reach me with your mind. . ._~*~

"You want me to go check the audio system?"

"No, no," she shook her head emphatically. "Actually, what I want I can't have right now." The intent had been to tease, yet color began to flood her cheeks. "What I want. . ." Audrey dipped her head and inhaled deeply, seeking to steer the conversation back onto less suggestive ground. Finally, she allowed her gaze to meet Jack's. "I want you right here with me." As Jack led her to the dance floor Audrey paused, halting her steps in an attempt to have a closer listen to the tune. "Actually, I know this song. You know, I think I may have to add this to my list of possible choices."

~*~_You can reach me by caravan__  
><em>_Cross the dessert like an Arab man__  
><em>_I don't care how you get here__  
><em>_Just get here if you can. . ._~*~

"For what, sweetheart?" Smoothly, Jack drew Audrey's slender form to his.

"The song we use for our First Dance. Listen to the lyrics, Jack. The more I think about it, this song could be perfect; it could actually be _our_ song!"

"I'll have to give it a listen sometime," he nodded. "Oh, you mean _now_?"

"Yes!" Audrey playfully swatted his arm. "I mean now!"

"Okay, okay," he laughed. As they slowly began to sway to the soft music, of its own volition Jack's hand drifted from Audrey's waist to the small of her back, only to return moments later to its former location as she gave him a pleading yet undeniably chastising look. "Sorry, sweetheart." He sighed. "I know, I know. . .appearances."

"Thank you," she murmured, bringing her head to rest against his chest.

# # #

In the men's bathroom of the vintage reception hall, James Heller stood at the urinal, surprised to still be relieving what he reasoned was an obviously too-full bladder, running down a mental list of items that would require his personal attention while his liaison, who also happened to be his soon-to-be-married daughter, Audrey, was away honeymooning. As he began separating the tasks in order of importance, he fought the urge to laugh, suddenly recalling just why it was he avoided beer and chose to stick to spirits instead. The former wreaked havoc on his bladder.

"Really, Heller?" he chuckled. "One glass and you're pissing like a racehorse that just ran the Kentucky Derby!"

As the steady stream of urine continued to issue forth, he absently began to whistle along to the vaguely familiar tune being piped in over the sound system. He couldn't recall the name of the song exactly, but he did remember the chorus went something like, _You can jump on a speeding goat/Cross the desert in a bag of oats/I don't care how you get here/Just get here if you can. . ._ Strange lyrics he mused, but then again, most of the music that was currently deemed 'popular' was strange if you asked him. Give him some Ella Fitzgerald, Nat "King" Cole, and Benny Goodman any day! Nevertheless, the current selection was a nice song he reasoned as the soothing piano solo began.

Still in the midst of emptying his bladder, seconds later it was all Heller could do to maintain control of his penis. A conversation – replete with the sounds of affection; kisses, sighs, and moans – that both parties undoubtedly—and erroneously—believed to be private was now being broadcast throughout the building.

A very _intimate_ conversation. . .

_"God, you look beautiful. . ." _

_"Has it ever been this good with anyone else?" _

_"No, Babe. And it never will be. . ." _

Instantly, Heller recognized the voices. Surprisingly, his initial response was not one of anger; rather he felt a strange sense of relief. The sensation lasted only a few seconds as he realized if he was privy to the conversation, so was everyone else in attendance.

Especially Audrey.

In an execution of a most amazing economy of motion, Heller was able to stem the flow of urine, tuck himself back into his boxers, and zip his tailored trousers; all in one seemingly fluid move. He didn't bother to wash his hands; transmission of germs and bacteria were the farthest things from his mind. As if a man possessed, he tore out of the bathroom in search of the offending parties. Only one thing was of paramount importance to Heller.

Ending the unexpectedly public conversation between the two former lovers before anything was said that there was no coming back from.

# # #

~*~_There are hills and mountains between us__  
><em>_Always something to get over__  
><em>_If I had my way__  
><em>_Surely you'd be closer__  
><em>_I need you closer. . ._~*~

One moment, Audrey was in his arms, head resting lightly against his chest as they swayed slowly, in sync to the song's piano solo. The next, the music was serving as the 'soundtrack' of sorts to a conversation.

_"God, you look beautiful. . ." _

Jack froze as he heard his own voice, the high quality speakers enabling his reverently rasped words to fill the room.

He didn't register the absence of Audrey's touch as he absently disengaged her lazily draped hand from around his neck. Nor did he absorb the initial look of confusion which clouded her light green eyes; that look was soon followed by one of complete and utter disbelief and ultimately gave way to a swift and cold comprehension. Like him, she had been rendered motionless. Her lips parted, as if to speak yet nothing came forth.

For the next several moments everything narrowed down to Jack's sense of sound. And the rapid thrum of his heart. His breath stilled as a flash of memory – so visceral he felt it down to the soles of his feet – assaulted him.

He remembered those words. When he said them. To _whom_ they were said. The declaration uttered as reverently as any prayer. And if his memory served him correctly, he had not been alone in what he was feeling; that sense of awe.

Mere seconds later, the sound of a female voice—breathless yet filled with the same sense of wonder—served to confirm what Jack intrinsically knew the moment he'd heard his own ardent declaration.

_"Has it ever been this good with anyone else?" _

Sabrina.

_"No, Babe. And it never will be..." _

Declaring what—and who—she wanted. _Him._

_"You know you're "it" for me, right, Jack? You were then. You are now. You will be forever…" _

He remembered, as if it were yesterday.

_"I feel the same way, Babe. You need me to say it?" _

But it wasn't the feel of her body twined with his.

Nor, the brush of his lips along her jaw, then her throat, before finally claiming her lips as he moved deeply inside her; bathed in her wetness, enveloped by her heated walls.

_"No. I just wanted you to know…how I feel." _

No, what he recalled and treasured most was the look of pure, naked love that radiated from her chocolaty orbs as she met and held his gaze.

_"Same here. You're it for me, Bri. Then. Now. Forever…" _

In this moment he could in no way deny that the words from his past were still as powerful and true in the present.

# # #

"Uh, Chloe, luv? Does this mean she gets to keep the engagement gift? 'Cause I still have the receipt!"

"_Really_, Morris? **Really**?"

"What?" he shrugged. He challenged the disbelieving stares of those at the table. "Hey, IKEA's return policy is a bitch to deal with, that's all I'm saying, luv. . ."

"Forget about the damn gift, Morris." Tearing her sullen gaze from the dance floor, Chloe exhaled a sigh of frustration. "The bigger issue at hand is whether or not there's even gonna _be_ a wedding. Hello? Did you not see—and hear—what just went down here?"

"Oh, yeah. He heard it." Tony tried to discreetly adjust himself without drawing his wife Michelle's attention. "Trust me, Chloe. _Every_ man in here heard it!"

"If I were you, I wouldn't go returning that gift just yet, Morris. And, uh, for the record, Chloe. . . I get the feeling there _is_ gonna be a wedding." As he watched the emotional ambush continue to unfold, Curtis let out a low whistle as he shook his head slowly. "Just _not_ **this** one…"

# # #

_"You know what you feel like to me, Jack? _**_Home_**_." _

Sabrina was making her intentions known.

Her actions all but said, _'Here I am, Jack. The next move? It's yours to make.'_

As so he did.

"I'm sorry, Audrey."

Wordlessly, Jack leaned forward and placed a whisper-soft kiss upon Audrey's forehead. His lips lingered against her slightly furrowed brow for a few seconds, as if he was somehow seeking to soften the blow of his previous words. Realizing such a thing was not possible he slowly drew back. The silence that existed between them seemed incredibly cruel, but Jack resisted the urge to try and fill it with words of comfort or even explanation.

Sometimes there just are no words. Only actions.

Her stricken sea-green eyes riveted to him, arms hanging limply at her side, Audrey attempted to speak but was silenced by something she saw in Jack's gaze. It wasn't pity. Nor was it consolation. It was something uncomfortably close to an outcome she had never contemplated.

Goodbye.

Time ceased for Audrey. One moment, Jack stood before her, apologizing then kissing her softly on the forehead; the next, he'd turned and walked away. That all may have transpired in no more than 90 seconds at the most. Yet it felt as if she'd just spent 90 minutes enveloped in fog. Audrey did not register the gentle grip of her father's hands upon her shoulders as he led her from the dance floor. Nor did she acknowledge the hushed whispers of the guests; those, like the innocuous words of her father promising, "Everything will be alright," were nothing more than white noise. She barely felt the hot tears as they began to spill from her eyes. Probably because she was too busy trying to maintain the view that was rapidly becoming increasingly blurred with each passing second.

Jack.

Specifically, his retreating form as sure, determined steps carried him out of the ballroom; effectively, out of her life. And instead to the woman everyone within earshot had just heard him declare was—and always would be—"it" for him.

Sabrina.


	15. Chapter 15

Get Here, Chapter 15: Under the Moonlight, This Serious Moonlight

_"Has it ever been this good with anyone else?" _

_"No, Babe. And it never will be..." _

Sabrina's impassioned query, and his equally felt response, looped in Jack's head as he steered the custom SUV stealthily down the highway. The picture of calm and steel resolve, he made no attempt to entertain the carnage his earlier actions had no doubt had resulted in. Jack knew there would be time—plenty—for reflection as well as recriminations; the latter of which he believed he justly deserved. But that was for later. Much later. Right now only one thing registered foremost in his mind. Correction, one _person_.

Sabrina.

The woman most definitely did not believe in small gestures! In retrospect, given she came from a world where just about everything was done on a grand scale Jack reasoned no less of an act in kind would have sufficed. Still, much like the woman herself tended to do, the gesture floored him.

And yet, nothing had ever felt so right to him.

Jack wondered briefly if there truly was such a thing as "the planets aligning," the possibility of—if even only for just one night—the Fates causing all the lost, scattered fragments of one's life to fall perfectly into place and coalesce into a moment of pure and supreme happiness. He wasn't positive but he had to admit if it did exist it surely had to feel a whole helluva lot like this.

'This' was freedom; the relief of having an almost crushing weight lifted. A stark contrast to the prior existence he led. What he was feeling now he could only equate to finally freeing himself after having been slowly sinking in quicksand. The past year, the last few weeks especially, felt like a slow, hazy blink for Jack. He found it amazing how in the span of a few seconds—courtesy of several candid, heartfelt admissions—he could feel his whole world go from a muted, dull haze to near blinding clarity.

_'The reason,'_ a tiny voice reminded him, _'is simple.'_

He was headed to the 'reason'; the one he was meant to be with. _Finally._ The moment was a long time coming, Jack noted.

Hell, _they_ were a long time coming…

# # # # #

_"We're both adults here." _

**_Three weeks._**

_That was the amount of time Federal Agent Jack Bauer surmised it took to knock his world off its axis._

_First, came the mind-blowing, sexually charged, promise-filled dinner with the frank, stunning Neurosurgeon. Unfortunately, due to circumstances beyond either's control – a threat to national security for him; a collapsed platform at a construction site, for her – the promise hinted at that evening by Doctor Sabrina DeLane that he was so eagerly looking forward to having fulfilled had to be deferred as both had to answer the call to duty issued by their respective professions. Two weeks later, they made another attempt when the brazen beauty informed Jack if he was ready, so was she to make good on the 'rain check' she had offered._

_True to her word, the world-renown physician had shown him her mastery of the human body—especially its capacity for points of pleasure. In possession of more than a working knowledge himself with regards to what the human body was capable of tolerating, not to be outdone Jack had matched her measure for measure. And then some._

_Even now, the mere flash of memory of the experience filled the world-weary government sentry with a hunger and_ _desire he'd not experienced in...well, truth be told..._

_Ever._

_And if he had any doubts, the bravado-laden gaze the beautiful, bold surgeon leveled back at him served to erase them. He most certainly was _**_not_**_ alone in what he was feeling._

_Or wanted._

_"Yes, we are both adults." Sabrina nodded gracefully. "That has been established."_

_Jack made the minor distance between them even smaller as he deliberately invaded her personal space. Close enough to pass for intimacy – to the two of them – yet separated by enough room to pass for simply occupying a "tight spot" to others, there amid the synchronized urgency and chaos of CTU, his voice was almost a low growl when he spoke. "So then there's no need to continue this. . .'dance' we've been doing."_

_"Is that what we're doing. . .what this is?" Inwardly, she winced. The moment the words fell from her lips, Sabrina regretted them._

_It was the opening Jack had been waiting for._

_"Well, I do believe that night over dinner we firmly established that you don't date." His molten gaze washed over her as he spoke the words. Burning, no, branding her. "And we've already had sex. . ." A most feral smile tickled the corner of his mouth, as if the ruggedly handsome intelligence agent was privy to some amusement known only to him—but meant for her. "Which leaves the obvious. What's inevitably next for you and I. . ."_

_Her internal alarms sounding, Sabrina nevertheless held her ground—even if she felt as if the very earth upon which her Christian Louboutins teetered was about to give way. "And I told you," she countered coolly, "I was not interested in a relationship."_

_"So you did." It was Jack's turn to nod. Only his assent was accompanied once again by that knowing, masculine grin. "Luckily for you I possess something far greater than my patience."_

_He paused. So the good doctor wanted to continue the dance, did she? Fine by him._

_"_**_Determination_**_." _

_# # #_

In the midst of a dizzying array of emotions engulfing him, Jack also found himself beset by thoughts of what it would be like to see Sabrina again after being apart for so long. What would he say? _Was_ there anything to say? What would he do? Was a kiss too forward or was it to be expected? Was sex a must or best if saved for later? Whatever his decision or course of action, it would happen soon he realized as he passed a familiar landmark indicating he was less than five miles out from the Ritz Carlton, the usual residence of choice when Sabrina came to visit.

As he entertained that last thought, for the second time that evening Jack gave pause to the Fates having smiled down upon him. Instantly, he recalled the last words of Sabrina's from earlier that evening, her ardent, heartfelt admission.

_"You know what you feel like to me, Jack? _**_Home_**_." _

_Although barreling along the highway at an impressive clip, with the greatest of ease Jack turned the steering wheel and executed a precision-perfect U-turn, spinning the Suburban into the passing lane, heading in the opposite direction. _

_He knew where she was; where she was waiting for him. How in the world, he wondered, had he missed it? Especially when with those last words she'd done everything but announce her whereabouts courtesy of a neon sign. _

_Sabrina was at the one place she called 'home' when in L.A. _

_# # #_

The moment he entered the lobby, Jack had to fight the urge to let loose with an appreciative whistle. Instantly, he recalled his initial thoughts upon his first visit to the edifice.

_'There's luxury. . .and then there's _**_this_**.'

'This,' was the Svyatilishche.

In addition to being nearly impossible to pronounce, it was also an insanely expensive (rooms _started_ at $11,000 per night), incredibly indulgent, and best of all impressively _private_ hotel.

Although widely speculated it was neither confirmed nor denied that the hotel's notoriously private owner, billionaire Stefan Cassadine, had purchased the airspace not only above the Svyatilishche, but that of several of the _surrounding_ buildings as well. Those among the news and gossip outlets with pockets deep enough, or paparazzi possessing nerves steely enough were welcome to take on either his lawyers or jet fighter pilots, respectively; the outcome in either scenario always proving to be financially crippling (not to mention potentially fatal) for the challenging party.

Another widely held albeit outlandish belief, cultivated among the most truly paranoid of conspiracy theorists, asserted he had purchased the air rights to the _entire block_; the end result being a virtual 'media blackout'; effectively crippling those parasites in the press seeking to obtain access to the hotel's patrons via photos from a helicopter, or other aerial modes of transport. Thus more than the luxury amenities or cuisine, it was the _privacy_ one was afforded when residing there that served as a major reason the luxury lodging was so popular with those in the public eye. Be it celebrity, magnate, dignitary, or even hermit, those who craved anonymity and were fortunate (and wealthy) enough to reside at the magnificent establishment made it a point to keep their "slice of heaven" as closely guarded a secret as possible, sharing its location only with those whom they knew were as vigilant about privacy and discretion as they were.

Svyatilishche was also the place Sabrina called "home" whenever she was on the West Coast.

This was only Jack's third visit to the hotel—in all the time they'd been involved, even once they became "official" and were a couple, he'd never stayed there overnight. Sabrina had made it perfectly clear: he had complete and unlimited access to the Ritz Carlton, her luxury hotel of choice when in town; but this one, Svyatilishche, was just what its name meant in her native but rarely spoken Russian tongue.

_Sanctuary. _

**This was home. **

And Sabrina had absolutely no intention of mixing the pleasurable with the personal. Even when it became undeniable to her that the two worlds could no longer exist separately—that, as Jack had crudely reminded her during one of their more heated exchanges, "You know it's okay, Bri, for you to **love** me as much as you love _fucking_ me!"—she still refused to give in and do the inevitable. Submit.

Until now.

Jack was jolted from his thoughts by a dark-haired gentleman patiently yet expectantly standing in front of the hotel's Reception desk, who appeared to be addressing him.

"Welcome to Svyatilishche, Agent Bauer," he said, nodding his head ever so slightly. Before Jack could inquire as to how the man knew who he was the impeccably attired stranger smiled sagely. "Miss Sabrina," he explained, the accent of his native tongue slightly pronounced. Extending his hand, he introduced himself. "I am Anatoly Chernikova, General Manager of the Svyatilishche. We have been expecting you." Anatoly stepped away from the brilliantly polished mahogany counter, gesturing to Jack. "Come. If you will follow me, I shall initiate your security clearance."

Jack nodded his understanding. In silence he followed Anatoly into a small room adjacent to the Reception work area, sizing him up the entire time. _'Hotel Manager my _**_ass_**_,'_ Jack observed silently. If there was one thing a lifetime in espionage had taught Jack Bauer it was to spot danger; not just with regards to his physical surroundings but probably more vital than anything, to recognize it in others. What was the phrase Curtis and Tony were forever tossing about?

_'Game recognizes game.' _

As he followed Anatoly into the anteroom, Jack acknowledged the soft-spoken man with the severe but unfailingly polite disposition very well might be in hotel administration. _Now._ But his eyes told a different story; hinted at a life far removed from the civility he now wore as elegantly and easily as the tailored suit on his back. Jack was certain there was a time – maybe long ago maybe only a few years ago, but there was certainly no doubt – Chernikova had been (and quite possibly could _still_ be) the very thing Jack was, what he excelled at. An agent of darkness, destruction, and death. Yeah, no doubt about it; Curtis and Tony nailed it.

Game most _definitely_ recognizes game.

# # # # #

Out of habit, Jack's eyes began to scan the 'security' room upon entry. With that same level of awareness in mind, he rounded the nearby small desk, making sure his back was not facing the door – the room's only means of ingress or egress – but instead keeping it within sight at all times. At the same moment he silently cursed himself for not having his gun with him, in his peripheral vision he saw Anatoly position his body as if to reach under the desk. Even as Jack began to assume a posture of defense, ever cognizant of his surroundings, out of the corner of his eye he noticed Anatoly raise his right hand as if in surrender. Years of training that honed amazing reflexes was the only thing that prevented Jack from attacking Anatoly.

"Whatever you're doing, Chernikova," Jack began slowly, his voice a low warning as he eyed Anatoly the entire time, "you _really_ need to clue me in if you wanna keep breathing."

To his credit, Anatoly maintained the quiet, reserved demeanor that he'd exhibited mere minutes earlier. Yet, there was no mistaking the sense of caution in his tone. "I seek not to retrieve a weapon, Agent Bauer," he began. "Please, stand down. And do not become alarmed by what transpires next."

Anatoly spoke slowly and precisely and executed the same motions as he trailed his fingers along the edge of the desktop before allowing his hand to slide beneath its burnished surface. Seconds later, the entire hardwood surface of the "desk" was transformed into a glass panel similar to the surface of a scanner's pane. Jack looked on as Anatoly opened the top drawer adjacent to the lower left corner of the desk; his hand disappeared beneath the desktop surface once more, obviously to enter a code on a keypad of some sort.

With a nod of his head Anatoly beckoned Jack to come around. "If you would, Agent Bauer, simply reach into the drawer to my left and with your right hand turn the makeshift doorknob, much the way you would a regular doorknob; only do not release it until the equipment indicates the scan is complete," he explained. "When done, immediately place your palm here." He pointed to a designated area of the desk's surface that was approximately the size of an 8x10. "The same instructions apply; do not remove your hand until notified the scan is complete."

Less than three minutes later, Jack was done.

"You now have access to floors 27 and 28 of Svyatilishche, and all the amenities contained therein." When Anatoly's statement was met with a blank stare from Jack, he continued. "These floors, for the Cassadines, are. . . _dom vdali ot doma_."

"Home away from home," Jack translated, nodding.

"Akh! Vy govorite po-russki ?" _{Ah! You speak Russian?}_

Jack gave a wry half smile as he shook his head. "Yedva ... prosto razgovornyy - dostatochno, chtoby proyti." _{Barely...just conversational—enough to get by.}_ "Again, barely."

"Well, nevertheless, a commendable effort!" Anatoly nodded, impressed. "Now, back to the access. As I was saying, the top two floors of the hotel are reserved solely for Cassadine family use and on occasion their honored guests."

Anatoly went on to explain to Jack in order to access the two restricted floors, whether by stairs or elevator, he was required to use his palm print each time; the print was scanned on a diagram located above the control panel (for the elevator) or staff security code keypad (for the stairs).

"Understand, you will _not_ be granted access to either floor –**you literally will ****not**** be able to exit the elevator cab or stairwell** – unless you scan your palm. This must be done each time you access either floor. Once you are on the floor, you may gain access to your room or any facility – unless, of course, due to security reasons we have restricted the area – simply by turning the doorknob. A keycard is not required to gain entry to your suite or any of the various areas on the floor; again, you need only turn the doorknob of the room you wish to enter." Now it was Anatoly's ruggedly handsome visage that bore a half-smile, this one more knowing than wry in response to Jack's now curious gaze. "The scan we just performed recorded your handprint as well as your fingerprints; this data has been electronically stored in the hotel's security database." A curt almost imperceptible nod of his head signaled the conversation was over. Anatoly extended his hand which Jack accepted, returning the firm determined shake. "Nice to have made your acquaintance, Agent Bauer."

"Same here, Chernikova," Jack nodded.

"Again, welcome to Svyatilishche," Anatoly said. "Now if you will excuse me, I will summon Kirill who will escort you upstairs. . ."

Watching Anatoly depart Jack got the feeling that this would not be the last time he crossed paths with the Russian warrior. As he took in his surroundings once more, Jack could only shake his head and marvel as his words from long ago floated back to him. . .

_"There's luxury. . .and then there's _**_this_**_!" _

_# # #_

Jack generally considered himself a man who was not easily rattled or fazed; there was not much that genuinely impressed him. He now realized his view of what was deemed 'impressive' was not only sorely skewed, but obviously on a whole other level fathoms apart from what he now beheld. As he journeyed down the massive hallway, he could not help but be in awe of the opulence.

Over the course of his career (in espionage and during his brief stint with the DOD), Jack had been in some of the most exclusive hotels in the world. He knew the supremely soothing sensation of what it was to lie atop a mattress so superb it truly felt as if the cushioning had been hand-crafted to accommodate no other body but his. He had imbibed the most vintage of wines from the vineyards of France, Italy, and Spain; spirits crafted in Russia, Scotland, and, yes, the United States. (When not in the field, the Tennessee-manufactured Gentleman Jack was his staple when out of his drink of choice, scotch.) His palate had served as the canvas for the culinary artistry of chefs with skills to rival those bearing the names Legasse, Puck, and Tsai.

In retrospect he could truly say he had experienced the best life had to offer.

But those occurrences were not a constant. He found himself inhabiting worlds that afforded him such experiences once or twice a year at most, and more often than not under the guise of a fictitious persona.

_~*~__  
><em>_You can reach me by railway__  
><em>_You can reach me by Trailway__  
><em>_You can reach me on an airplane__  
><em>_You can reach me with your mind__  
><em>_~*~ _

As he stood outside the suite he could not help but be struck by the realization that what so often was fantasy for him was _reality_ to Sabrina. A fearless, defiant, and oftentimes maddening woman whose day to day existence put those past experiences to shame. A woman who hailed from a family whose world, wealth, and power surpassed anything most people could dream of and only a select few could truly comprehend. The same woman who had just so publicly given him her submission; extended to him the one thing that for a woman like her was more fragile than her heart.

Her trust.

It would be inaccurate to infer with that lone act she had re-claimed his heart; that would imply she no longer resided there, that his love for her had waned or ceased. No, such was not the case. And as he once again felt that familiar quickening thrum of his pulse, not just at the prospect of seeing and being with her again, but just at the mere _thought_ of her, Jack knew to the core of his being nothing could be farther from the truth. He gripped the doorknob and turned it, opening the door and entering the suite; effectively stepping into his destiny. With Sabrina.

Jack quietly made his way down the foyer, briefly closing his eyes and allowing the still familiar scent of her perfume—a subtle yet spicy fragrance created by the team of Casadine perfumiers just for her—to invade his senses. Slowly, he opened his eyes, making no attempt to still the small smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth; it was as if he'd felt her even before he saw her.

And what a vision she was to him. Loosely curled tresses pulled off her face, in almost reverent silence he watched as glass of wine in hand, she gracefully slid out of the Gucci stilettos, padding barefoot across the marble floor to the nearby sofa. The diaphanous skirt and blouse clung to her shapely frame in all the right places. His heart constricted with concern as he noted she'd lost weight—nothing serious, maybe 10 pounds at the most; but noticeable, at least to him—since the last time he saw her.

That had been nearly a year ago.

_~*~__  
><em>_You can reach me by caravan__  
><em>_Cross the dessert like an Arab man__  
><em>_I don't care how you get here__  
><em>_Just get here if you can__  
><em>_~*~ _

Had he really gone that long, he marveled, 365 days, without hearing the rhythm of her breaths as she slept, the sound of her voice, or her laugh; without the feel of her touch; or the feel of _her_, in his arms, her body pressed against his, limbs coiled around his?

All that and more, he'd lost for the better part of a year. And so had she. If at all possible, in that moment, as he expelled the rush of air he didn't realize he'd been holding since entering the suite, she was more beautiful than he could remember.

_~*~__  
><em>_You can reach me by sailboat__  
><em>_Climb a tree and swing rope to rope__  
><em>_Take a sled and slide down slow__  
><em>_Into these arms of mine__  
><em>_~*~ _

Sabrina was in the act of reclining upon the plush sofa, laying back to savor an offering from the Cassadine vineyard when she heard him. He watched as with a slow and deliberate movement she deposited the stemware on the nearby low end table. Rising from the sofa, her tranquil, awe-tinged gaze met his and for several seconds the power of speech eluded him. In that moment all he could do was entertain three thoughts. He loved her. He had never stopped.

And he never would.

_~*~__  
><em>_You can jump on a speeding colt__  
><em>_Cross the border in a blaze of hope__  
><em>_I don't care how you get here__  
><em>_Just get here if you can__  
><em>_~*~ _

That last thought brought forth a smile that had not graced his features in over a year. He knew why. It was a smile belonging to and meant only for _her_. Still smiling, he said the only thing he could manage at the moment.

"I got your message."

The only thing Sabrina could manage was to nod her head and expel a breath she did not realize she'd been holding. "Yeah," she nodded finally regaining the power of speech, "I see you did."

# # # # #

This was only his third time in her suite. He'd never stayed there; sure, he'd seen it, even been inside, but none of their encounters had ever taken place there, she noted regretfully. Yet suddenly none of that mattered anymore.

All that mattered was now.

Because now was the moment they were face to face. Two lovers who'd been apart for over a year. A man whose ardent gaze said, _'Yeah. She's still all I ever wanted. Always will be.'_ A woman, thinking the same but also slightly shaken upon realizing, as the songstress Anita Baker declared, _"It's been you all the time. . ."_

In the midst of it all, as her feet touched the marble surface and she made her way to Jack on legs that were slightly unsteady Sabrina could only marvel at her own stupidity.

_'And to think I almost lost you...' _

Slowly, Sabrina crossed the room, her eyes glistening with tears as she drank in the sight of Jack. Some distant voice was telling her to commit the moment to memory, because she would never be the same from that point on. But she couldn't hear it. All she could see, breathe, know, and feel was him. Her fingers trembled slightly as she traced the contours of his mouth, all the while wanting so desperately the taste of his kiss.

"What's wrong, Babe?"

_Babe._

It wasn't until that very moment Sabrina realized how much she treasured – and had missed – the endearment. As the tears that she had managed to hold at bay now sprang forth in earnest, Sabrina dipped her head.

"Babe, talk to me. . .what's wrong?" He cradled her face within the warmth of his hands.

"Nothing. I'm okay, really," she shook her head. "I just. . ." She sighed heavily. "I just so did not want to be 'that woman.' You know, the one who dissolves into a puddle of tears, becomes a blubbering mess when she's reunited with her man."

_Her man._

Jack did not think it was possible for two simple words to have invoked such a strong feeling of pride and possessiveness within him. Or truth. Yes, he was hers. As much as she was his if not more. And there was absolutely nothing else he would rather be. "Don't be embarrassed or ashamed. You have no reason to be, Babe." With the most reverent of touches the pads of his thumbs smoothed away the rivulets of moisture from her cheeks. "If I weren't still in a state of semi-shock, I'd be weeping right now, too," Jack admitted. He smiled tenderly. "When I look at your tears, your reaction, I see a sign of your love. And that's _nothing_ to be ashamed of."

Sabrina's touch continued to linger while her free hand threaded through his hair, cupping the back of his head and drawing his face down to hers; eyes closed she rested her forehead against his and breathed deeply then exhaled. Finally. It was the breath she had held in since her admission to her mother—correction, to _herself_—she still loved him; a breath she had suspended since she made the decision to "go get her man"; a breath she stilled when, heart in hand, she publicly declared to him for her there was, nor ever would be, no other man. . .all the while knowing he could very well reject her.

Now, she could finally breathe.

# # # # #

She opened her eyes and gazed up into cerulean pools she did not think she'd see again. Her fingers began to tremble anew as they traversed the outline of his mouth once more. Their lazy journey ceased when a low growl fell from Jack's lips. Sabrina felt the rumble before she heard it. And in that moment, it was almost as if the space between them – filled with raw, primal longing – combusted.

_~*~  
>There are hills and mountains between us<br>Always something to get over  
>If I had the way surely you would be closer<br>I need you closer. . .  
>~*~<em>

Who grabbed who first was unclear. Their lips met in a kiss that was bruising, demanding. Hungry. They crashed against the wall, their bodies pressed so closely together Sabrina could feel the imprint of the buttons on Jack's dress shirt through the fabric of her blouse. Frantically, their hands traveled across the planes of each other's bodies; desperate to cup, tweak, and stroke flesh that had been denied them for far too long.

When Sabrina's hand snaked between their bodies and nestled between his thighs, ardently stroking the impressive, straining bulge, with an almost super-human resolve Jack gently grasped Sabrina's wrist and slowly stilled her touch.

"No, Babe," he murmured as he broke off the kiss. "Not here," he shook his head. "Not like this."

"Where?" she gasped. The query was somewhere between a demand and a broken plea. "**_When_**?"

"Bedroom," he answered. His lips claimed hers again as he backed her towards the mammoth room.

Everything from that moment on became a blur.

_~*~__  
><em>_You can windsurf into my life__  
><em>_Take me up on a carpet ride__  
><em>_You can make it in a big balloon__  
><em>_But you better make it soon. . .__  
><em>_~*~ _

Later, she would remember him laying her down atop the bed, his touch tinged with a veneration that almost brought her to tears. His strong, sure fingers tenderly trailing along her bare arms; their slow, agonizing voyage continuing as they journeyed up along the smooth expanse once again then began to dance along the swell of her silk-encased breasts. She would recall his eyes, his gaze beyond hypnotic or sensual, _commanding_ she not look away. Not that she could if she wanted. She would tremble at the memory of his slow, deliberate disrobing. Just as they did then, once again, her eyes would flutter closed as she relived the small knowing, cruel smile that tugged the corner of his mouth as he watched her writhe, still fully clothed, atop the bed.

_~*~__  
><em>_I don't care how you get here__  
><em>_Just get here__  
><em>_If you can. . .__  
><em>_~*~ _

She would have to still the urge to cry out, just as she had done earlier that night when, magnificently nude and unapologetic, he covered her trembling body with his and made no attempt to mask how he reveled in her ragged breaths as she accepted the weight of his form, even as she willed her own _not_ to respond to the need to wrap her legs about his waist, to thrust her hips up to meet his.

Mercilessly, she would be assaulted by memories of how she attempted to hold back the cry of sheer, spine-tingling ecstasy as he at last began to peel away first the coral Dior silk blouse then the silver skirt of the same until she was left clad in only a lace-trimmed sheer brassiere and scant scrap of silk.

Muscle-memory would kick in at the mere thought of the way she trembled as with a deliberate, painstaking precision he peeled away first the bra then the panties; especially at the recall of the kisses he rained along the insides of her thighs as the dampened scrap of silk descended her quivering limbs.

_~*~__  
><em>_I don't care. . .__  
><em>_I need you__  
><em>_Right here, right now__  
><em>_I need you__  
><em>_Right here, right now__  
><em>_Right by my side. . .__  
><em>_~*~ _

How only when she was lying naked before him, when he uttered his reverent declaration again, "God, you look so beautiful," making her feel more loved and desirable than she ever had, did he nudge her thighs apart with his. She would revel in the way her breath stilled when for the briefest of moments he cupped her aroused sex within the palm of his hand. Both understanding him wanting—no, _needing_—to hold what was his and his alone.

She would savor the memory of him smoothly sliding first one then two fingers between the folds of delicate flesh to find her wet and ready for him. Just as he had expected her to be, yet fully aware for him it was still nice to bask in the knowledge. Likewise, she would bask once again in the recall of the beauty of his unapologetic masculine smile in response to her sharp indrawn breath as she watched him bring his glistening fingers to his mouth and, his gaze holding hers the entire time, lap away her juices.

But what she would remember most was not her mistaken belief that she could not endure anything more, that she could not bear to witness another act of raw, primal sensuality. No, as she recalled the moment when she felt the head of his engorged member at the entrance of her warmth, what she would cherish most was the memory of the supremely sublime moment when they both returned 'home'. . .to each other.

_~*~__  
><em>_Get here. . .__  
><em>_I don't care how you get here__  
><em>_Just get here__  
><em>_If you can__  
><em>_~*~ _

"You wanted to know where?" He did not wait for her answer but instead made his intent known. "Here." His voice was once again a low growl as he pinned her with his gaze. "Like this." Slow, deep, and deliberate was his thrust as he pushed into the wet, sweet, tightness that no other man would know but him.

"Just. Like. This."

**[A/N: Casting for Anatoly Chernikova - Mads Mikkelsen (NBC's **_**Hannibal**_**; **_**Clash of the Titans**_**); song credit - **_**Get Here**_**, by Oleta Adams-Pam]**


	16. Epilogue 01

Get Here

Epilogue, Part I: Call of the Wild

Jack Bauer stood in the doorway of his bedroom and just watched the beautiful woman lying sprawled facedown asleep in his bed. It was a little over two months since Sabrina so publicly offered her submission to him at what was to have been an engagement party celebrating his impending nuptials to Audrey Raines. He and the headstrong doctor had been inseparable since that day, each perhaps not quite believing that the other would not manage to bring about another long and painful separation.

Even as Jack quietly basked in the satisfaction of her presence, Sabrina stirred restlessly and kicked the covers off her lithe thighs. Instantly his body reacted and Jack could feel the thin cotton of his pajama bottoms pull taut across his groin. A rapidly familiar throb began to set an almost painful rhythm just on the underside of the ridged head of his penis. Without shame Jack slipped his hand beneath the soft cotton material and began to massage and squeeze the tip. Gingerly he smoothed the pearly drop that issued forth all around the angry crimson head of his erection.

Jack clenched his teeth at the cascade of pleasurable sensations that raced up his spine. He growled deep in his throat and pushed the cotton pants off hips then kicked them aside.

His erection jutted before him as he swiftly removed the distance separating him from his sleeping lover. Stealthily Jack climbed onto the bed and crawled until he was able to lower his hard male form atop hers.

"Jack?" the sleepy query came.

"Only," he growled. Jack slipped a hand beneath Sabrina's hips and slid his fingers through the delicate folds of her sex. His index and ring fingers gently spread and held her open while his middle finger brushed lightly and repeatedly against the bundle of nerves that never failed to kick start her body's reaction.

"Jack-" Sabrina's sleepy recognition was abruptly short-circuited when Jack began a merciless journey to bury his engorged penis deep inside her not quite prepared flesh. The doctor keened a small cry of surprise and discomfort and instinctively tried to shift away from his penetration. Jack easily countered by pinning Sabrina in place with sheer muscle and the weight of his body.

Her efforts to deny him the moment he loved most drew a low, throaty rumble from the determined agent. For Jack there was no moment more sublime than when the engorged head of his penis was forced to push its way inside Sabrina's warmth. He felt an almost feral sense of conquest that was just on the verge of savage.

"Jack. . .I'm. . not ready. . ." Sabrina moaned plaintively. Her nails dug into the muscled arm pinioning her torso like a steel band. His only response was to widen the vulnerable opening even further with his fingers.

"Yes. . ." Jack hissed into Sabrina's ear as he pushed steadily inside her. "Take this. Take me."

Only when he was fully seated did Jack still his body. He lay atop Sabrina, letting her feel the weight of his body and the coiled animal power it contained. "Take me," he murmured as he withdrew almost painfully slowly from flesh that parted from his reluctantly.

Without warning, in one swift brutal thrust, he seated himself again to the hilt. "Take this."

**[A/N: This portion of the Epilogue was penned by jrsgirl. **_**Spasibo**_**, m'dear-Pam]**


	17. Epilogue 02

Get Here - Epilogue, Part II: The King's Feast

Nearly five months had passed since Jack and Sabrina reunited and in that time weekends had taken on an entirely new significance for Jack. Given the unpredictable nature of their professions, his more so than hers, it was never a given as to what their plans would be once Sabrina touched down on the West Coast.

This evening was a perfect example.

A last minute excursion into the city to investigate a potential threat to national security had seemingly derailed their plans for an evening out on the town that was to be capped off by a moonlight drive along the PCH. 'Seemingly' being the operative word for as Jack beheld Sabrina as he entered the suite, he realized going out was still very much an option for her.

"Am I to take it we'll be dining _in_ tonight?" she posed, quirking a finely waxed brow.

"If you don't mind, Babe." Jack shrugged out of his jacket and draped it on the back of Sabrina's favored chaise lounge, a weary smile accompanying his pleading gaze.

Sabrina did a graceful spin then gave a sweep of her hands in kind along her shapely frame, drawing his attention to the alabaster Herve Leger bandage dress. "So then. . ._this_ was for naught?"

Perched on the edge of the Queen Anne style settee Jack began removing his footwear. "Would it help any if I said you look beautiful?" Glancing up briefly, he offered up a devilish smile.

"I _always_ look beautiful, Bauer." Her soft laughter hung in the air as she headed for the wet bar.

"That is very true," Jack agreed.

Head cocked slightly to the side he looked on, appreciating the gentle sway of her hips and the marvelous shape of the supple yet firm globes of her ass, all a perfect symphony of sensuality in motion. There were times he could simply watch her walk away. All day long. The sight of her in motion—period—always stirred something within him, but the vision of her _leaving_ tapped into the purely visceral and primal. Moments later he accepted the proffered tumbler of scotch Sabrina extended to him, even as he deftly drew her playfully protesting form onto his lap.

Sabrina draped her arms about his neck. As always when they were in close proximity to each other, she gave in to the need to touch him; burying the fingers of her right hand in his hair, lazily threading them through his sandy locks as she gingerly trailed the fingers of her left along his jawline.

"Make it up to me?"

Her slender, skilled digits now danced along the contours of his mouth. She did not wait for his answer but instead leaned in for a soft yet lingering kiss, moaning softly as she savored the taste of the vintage malt upon his tongue.

Jack gave a low growl of protest as Sabrina broke off the kiss. "You know I will." A faint nip of her lower lip preceded a promise-filled curve of his. "Soon as I clean up and get something to eat. I'm starving!"

"Duly noted." A smile accompanied her sigh of disappointment. "Why don't you go ahead and take your time washing the day off," she suggested, "and I'll call the chef and have him whip up a quick feast." Stealthily, she retrieved the empty tumbler. "What are you hungry for? Steak? Seafood? Chicken? All of the above?"

"Surprise me," he grinned.

# # # # #

Forty-five minutes later, chin perched atop her palm, Sabrina looked on in amused silence as a barefoot, jeans and t-shirt clad (and obviously ravenous) Jack made quick work of consuming his meal of a bleu cheese butter-topped Porterhouse and roasted vegetables. Poised to take a sip of his wine, Jack paused as he watched Sabrina rise from the table. "Where you going, Babe?"

"I figure I should go ahead and get out of this dress," she reached down and slipped the Christian Louboutin stiletto off her foot, "since I won't be on your arm dazzling the masses."

"You dazzle me plenty, Bri." He nodded as he savored a garlic-roasted new potato. "Plenty."

"Wow," Sabrina marveled as she returned to her seat, discarding her other stiletto, "when you said you were starving, Bauer, you were _not_ kidding, huh?"

"When it comes to good food, I hardly ever joke around, Babe," he answered in between bites of the expertly grilled tenderloin. "That's especially true for steak."

"Speaking of which. . ." Sabrina speared a piece of asparagus from his plate then cast a skeptical glance at the remnants of what was once a 1 ½" thick 18 oz. cut of beef. "Shall I call down and have the chef send up another?"

"Nah, I'm good." Jack gave a lazy shake of his head as he dabbed at his mouth with a linen napkin. "For the night."

"Ohhh, don't say that," Sabrina teased. Slowly, she raised the lid of the serving tray to reveal the hotel patisserie's coconut foam & pecan-topped take on German chocolate cake. "And, yes," she nodded, laughing knowingly, "it _is_ as delicious as it looks and smells."

"Maybe later." He made a show of patting his stomach. "All I wanna do is lay in your arms the rest of the night, Babe." Sliding his hand across the tabletop, Jack twined his fingers with Sabrina's.

"Hey!" she feigned outrage as Jack raised her hand to his lips. "That's _my_ line, Bauer." Her faux protest wavered the moment she felt Jack's mouth against the back of her hand, his lips softly grazing her knuckles.

"Tough, DeLane," he cracked. "Besides, I've got lost time to make up for, remember?" His challenge-filled met and held hers. "We both do."

If it was at all possible, it seemed his gravelly voice dropped an octave lower. The shift in his tone, the mood, immediately was followed by the darkening of his cerulean gaze to an even deeper more breathtaking shade of blue.

None of which was lost on Sabrina.

There it was again, she noted. That sensation of overwhelming heat; a flush of warmth that coursed through her entire being it seemed. She felt as if she was being branded. By now, she reasoned, she'd have thought she would be used to it.

Yet, each time it happened—and the occasions had been numerous since the night of their reunion—it felt like the very first time.

"I never did say I was sorry, did I?" The query was carried along by a tremulous breath.

"I don't want an apology, Bri," he answered. Absently, his thumb made soft, soothing sweeps across the back of her hand. "What I want. . .what I **need**, is to get us back. . .to _us_." Unhurriedly, Jack rose from the table, drawing Sabrina to her feet as he did so. The entire time, his gaze never wavered. Not once. "You do realize you denied me your touch. . ._everything_. . .for the better part of a year? Actually, it was thirteen months, to be exact," he said softy. "Three hundred ninety-six days."

"Five hundred seventy thousand, two hundred forty minutes," Sabrina added, quickly doing the math in her head. "Thirty-four million, two hundred fourteen thousand, four hundred seconds." Slowly, she backed away from Jack, easing her fingers from within his in kind as she did so.

"That's a whole lot of making up to do, Babe." Just as Sabrina was turning away from him and poised to slip from his grasp, Jack tightened his hold on her fingers. In the seconds it took her to realize her attempt at flight had been halted, Jack had already closed the distance between them; her back to him as he gently but insistently leaned in and pressed his body against hers.

"I. . .thought. . .you were stuffed," Sabrina managed. She fought to still her body's response to the warmth of Jack's touch as he began to unzip the designer garment that fit her as if a second skin.

"Turns out I _do_ have room for dessert," Jack allowed. "And what I have a taste for isn't on a serving tray." As he enveloped her in his embrace, Jack swept aside her lush tresses and set about allowing his mouth to dance along the expanse of the back of her now exposed neck, giving great and deliberate care to the spot he knew all but rendered her helpless to his advances.

"Jack, _please_. . .," she moaned weakly. Trembling, her hands reached for his as she felt them come to rest at her abdomen.

"Yeah, Babe?" Jack smiled in response to Sabrina's reaction as his mouth found her earlobe and began to mercilessly lave the sensitive flesh.

"Jack, promise me you won't take all night to undress me. . .like before?" came her pleading query. Eyes fluttering closed she fought desperately against the urge to grind her rear against the increasingly evident proof of his arousal. "I don't think I can take that tonight."

"You have my word, Babe," his voice was a low growl filled with promise as he lightly thrust against her, "I am not going to spend all night _undressing_ you. . ." Jack allowed his teeth to faintly nip her shoulder.

As she turned in his embrace, bringing her head to rest upon his chest, all but melting against him, Sabrina missed the feral smile that once again turned up the corner of her lover's marvelous mouth.

# # #

_She had no one to blame but herself. . ._

As a Cassadine, Sabrina marveled, she should've have known better than to ignore the first and most important rule of engagement. _Pay close attention to what is _**_not_**_ said as opposed to what is._ Had she applied that basic tenet she would not have found herself in the current state she now so helplessly albeit pleasurably endured.

_"You have my word, Babe, I am not going to spend all night undressing you. . ."_

In retrospect, she realized, Jack remained true to his word. Once in the suite's bedroom, he had swiftly yet skillfully divested Sabrina of her skintight sheath with a vigor that was so contagious the beautiful doctor had practically scrambled atop the bed, eagerly reclining her nude form amid the pillows yet somehow managing to gracefully part her supple thighs in loving invitation to him.

She looked on in breathless anticipation as Jack—feral smile full of cruel promise, his gaze never wavering—reached back and drew his t-shirt over his head; an act both were fully aware never failed to elicit a visceral reaction from the tawny temptress. Jack made no attempt to stifle his throaty chuckle in response to the gasp that fell from a now insanely aroused Sabrina's lips when he tossed the cotton fabric aside. The gasp became a moan as he knelt on the bed and in an act reminiscent of a majestic jungle cat crawled towards her. When they were finally face to face – his body hovering tauntingly above hers, Jack supporting his weight by bracing his arms on either side of her – with an agonizingly deliberate precision, he lowered his body atop hers and claimed her lips for a stirring kiss. Sabrina in turn indulgently wrapped her legs about his waist as she reveled in the contrasting sensations of his bare chest crushed against her breasts even as his denim-clad hips lazily ground against hers.

The moan soon gave way to first a cry of protest as Jack broke off the kiss, then one of surprise when he began to slide his body down the length of hers, the entire time raining soft kisses along the expanse of her writhing frame; he halted his journey several times to give more than a portion of loving attention to her breasts, his mouth and tongue rapidly reducing Sabrina to indecipherable mutterings. So engrossed in the feel of Jack's indolent nips and kisses along her shapely frame, Sabrina could barely register the full-blown shock that commenced when Jack grasped her first by one then the other ankle and lowered himself to the floor.

The entire time, drawing her stunned, feebly protesting form towards him.

And it was at that moment, as his vow from earlier in the evening came back to her, comprehension of exactly what lay in store for her began to dawn.

_"You have my word, Babe, I am not going to spend all night _**_undressing_**_ you…"_

Oh, yes. She had _no one_ to blame but herself…

# # #

Jack had no sense of time. He had long since lost track of how long he had been between Sabrina's thighs. Not that it mattered. His sole intent, much as it was every time as of late when they were together, was to relish the act of pleasing her. Over the course of his ministrations his adoration varied; between a slow, teasing laving of the flesh-covered pearl, and enveloping it within the warmth of his mouth, tenderly sucking the incredibly sensitive bundle of nerves. He was in no hurry. _Absolutely none._ This act, loving her, was as vital to him as food or water. And he was feasting.

Like a fucking **king**.

Willingly, without shame Sabrina's legs were spread.

The entire time, the ephemeral sensation of surrender and release tickled the periphery of her consciousness—even as her lightly spasming form gracefully contorted in an attempt to evade the marvelous torture being rendered by her lover's mouth. Raising her hips from the bed was not an option; Jack's strong hands splayed low across her abdomen effectively pinned her in place. Briefly, she was able to lever her body up to gaze down at Jack and watch him adoring her.

But only briefly.

It was as if the pure sexuality of the moment was too intense for her to bear witness to. In many ways, she noted, it felt as if the act was almost brand new between them. Which was strange to Sabrina, as Jack going down on her was not a novelty; far more times than she could count in their past the act had taken place. Yet there was no denying the encounters that took place between them since her submission were fueled by what could only be described as a renewed sense of freedom...for _Jack_.

Not quite a man possessed, Sabrina could in no way deny Jack was indeed a _determined_ man as he proceeded to play her body with a maestro's precision. She had ceased to plead for mercy of any sort. The best she could hope for was exhaustion. On his part. But as her thighs began to tremble once again, her hips sinuously swerving in response to the demands of his wonderfully skilled tongue's actions, Sabrina accepted the inevitable; that all she could do was collapse back onto the bed and submit to the knowledge such a thing would not be.

Not for some time this night.

# # #

_"Da, da . O, kak ya lyublyu tebya."_ The reverent declaration was repeated by Sabrina over and over.

As the night wore on with a single-mindedness that bordered on frightening, Jack adored her.

A sound that could only be described as a low rumble in Jack's throat was accompanied by what Sabrina swore was the feel of his lips curving into a smile against her sex as he continued to kiss, caress, and lave the delicate folds of flesh housing what he had long ago wickedly dubbed "a taste of pink." It was a taste, both knew, he craved above all others.

The only act Sabrina could manage was to lazily glide her trembling fingers through Jack's hair as her body responded to his tongue languorously bathing her clit. Soon her unsteady, slender digits were splayed against his crown, desperate to push him away and halt his erotic efforts as he began to suckle anew the now too-sensitive tiny, pink nub. When Sabrina none too gently palmed a fistful of Jack's sandy locks he relented, decreasing his efforts by just the faintest of degrees. But any relief the tawny beauty thought she had discovered was short-lived.

Perhaps spurred on by her throaty cries, or the sinuous undulation of her hips, whatever the reason, Jack doubled his efforts; never increasing the amount of pressure exerted by his mouth but deliberately focusing his attention on the ultra-sensitive bundle of nerves his tongue was so expertly flicking against.

Sabrina's hoarse cry echoed throughout the suite in response. Her body arched from the bed, limbs locked in rigor as an almost painful climax overtook her; coursing through her like jolts of electricity. Panting, her body still beset by light spasms, Sabrina could only turn her face into the plush down pillow in the wake of another orgasm being pulled from her surprisingly still willing body.

With great effort Sabrina slid a still trembling hand across the silken sheets and tried her best to hold on; to anchor herself amid the storm her lover had unleashed. For the briefest of seconds she entertained begging for mercy; then just as quickly the notion was discarded. She knew better than to plead for him to stop, for she remembered the feral look he gave her as he rose from between her thighs after his first taste of her; it was the very same gaze he gave her all those months ago, the night they reunited. The reason was the same now as it had been then; as he had reminded her earlier in the evening. He'd been denied this act of loving worship for over a year.

And he had every intention of making up for lost time.

# # #

Once again, Sabrina found herself staring up into Jack's mesmerizing azure gaze as he hovered above her. She felt as if her entire body was one massive nerve ending, so much that just the faint brush of Jack's semi-quiescent penis against her thigh nearly sent her body flying off the bed.

Fully aware of her hypersensitive state, gently Jack lowered his body atop hers. "What were you saying earlier?" With great care, he let his weight come to rest atop Sabrina. "Were you speaking _Russian_?"

"Da," she nodded. She smiled softly and cupped his face, expelling a shaky breath as she did so. Her gaze was nothing short of reverent as her fingers began to trace the outline of his mouth. "I said, 'Yes. Yes. Oh, how I love you'." Sabrina felt the shift in the mood before the change began to register in Jack's body.

"Say it again." Jack's voice dropped to a low growl. His darkening gaze was a thing of untamed beauty.

"Da, da . O, kak ya lyublyu tebya."

Sabrina's words were barely above a whisper as Jack's lips brushed against hers. As he deepened the kiss, she closed her eyes against the supreme sensuality of the moment, savoring the taste of herself upon her lover's tongue. Reluctantly, Sabrina tore her lips from his. Her strained cry of satisfaction issued forth as Jack buried himself to the hilt inside her. And her ardent declaration was murmured in his ear.

_"Ya lyublyu tebya."_


	18. Epilogue 03

Get Here - Epilogue, Conclusion: Then, Now, Forever

While he loved being with her at the Svyatilishche and found their time there beyond gratifying, Jack could in no way deny that there was something so right, a satisfaction that defied description in having Sabrina under his roof, in his bed…_in his city_…after having attained her submission.

It harkened back to the primal; the natural order of things.

Nighttime was undoubtedly magical. The energy and bustle of L.A. combined with the charged air of electricity that arced between the two, often without trying, was always a perfect and potent permutation for satisfaction.

But morning was his absolute favorite time with her.

Those moments when they were both unguarded, not having yet donned the "armor" required to navigate their professional (and even personal) worlds. When, neither had engaged their minds to occupy anything outside of the expanse of space each inhabited with the other; to do nothing other than just…feel. It was almost as if the period – that stolen amount of time, be it five minutes or fifty – was an extension of the moments when the world narrowed down to just the two of them.

And all he could think, feel, almost even _breathe_ was her.

Like now.

Especially like this.

With the soft patter of rain as a soundtrack, and the backdrop of darkened skies filtering just enough natural light into the room Jack absently perused the day's paper all the while engrossed in thoughts of the woman who lay sated and spent in the other room, sprawled atop his bed. After nearly seven months of bi-coastal jaunts (the majority of them made by Sabrina) the couple was finally returning to their comfortable rhythm of old, Jack reflected. Reclined on the sectional, he smoothly eased his hand from the pocket of his pajama bottoms at the sound of her soft footfalls.

Jack could barely suppress his soft chuckle as the newspaper pages strewn across his lap levitated ever so slightly as the thin fabric of his sleepwear strained to harness a burgeoning erection that bordered on painful. Damn. There was morning wood then there was _this_, he reasoned.

Then again, Sabrina had that effect on him.

Always.

# # # # #

"Come back to bed, Babe."

Poised in the doorway of his bedroom, even with tousled hair, stifling a yawn, and her voice thick with sleep, Sabrina still made a most enticing vision to Jack. His hungry gaze journeyed the length of her milk chocolate thighs, down the expanse of her seemingly endless legs, then back up again.

Subsequently, a possessive growl began to build in the back of his throat as he noted the hem of the cotton garment that usually served as his pajama top just barely fell past the triangle of curls his fingers never tired of trailing among; how the edge skimmed the bottom of her shapely behind and teasingly hinted at the supple globes he'd palmed, caressed, and nipped hours earlier.

"I don't know a damn thing about fashion," Jack admitted. Giving an appreciative nod, he continued to drink in the sight of her clad in his old, worn gray t-shirt. "But that is one look that is most _definitely_ a fashion do." A swift brush of his hand sent the newspaper pages fluttering to the floor.

"Oh, really, Bauer?" she queried. Kneeling at the far end of the sectional, she gave a lazy smile as she began a slow crawl towards him. "And why is that?"

"'Cause it makes me wanna _do_ things to you, Babe," he grinned.

The only thing missing from the perplexed look adorning Sabrina's visage as she came to a complete stop was the sound of crickets chirping.

"_Do_ things, Bri," he repeated. "As in 'do'…_you_?" he prompted. An attempt to wriggle his brows in a Groucho Marx-esque fashion only resulted in an exaggerated arch of a lone brow. "Get it?"

It was that act, which Sabrina found so eerily reminiscent of her brother Stefan's trademark imperious stare that finally elicited her laughter. "You know what?" Sabrina cracked as Jack drew her to him, "don't give up espionage for comedy, okay?"

As she twisted about to burrow her body within the furniture's soft cushions, all the while nestling closer to Jack's, Sabrina gave a small yelp as her hip connected with something hard enough yet way too small to possibly be Jack's dick; and if by some cruel twist of fate it was, the beautiful surgeon reasoned she was going to have to become incredibly creative when it came to their future sex life.

Unsure of whether to be aroused or aghast, a determined Sabrina was about to ease her hand inside Jack's pajama bottoms and investigate when a noticeable bulge near the pants' pocket caught her attention and diverted her curious hand in its direction.

What she discovered rendered her speechless.

# # # # #

Wordlessly, Jack took the small black velvet box from Sabrina's near nerveless fingers and opened it to reveal a three-carat emerald cut ruby flanked by one-carat baguette-cut diamonds set against a platinum band.

"I know the traditional thing is to give a diamond," he began. "That's what most men do. Hell, that's what most women want. But you're not most women." Shaking his head, he reached out to cup her face, sweeping his thumb across her cheek. "Not by a long shot. The things that I love about you – how you're fearless and impulsive; your fire – and even that cool, aloof, detached thing you can do that sometimes drives me crazy. The goal was to give you a ring that somehow spoke to all those parts of you." A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "That was what I was going for."

"You succeeded," was her near breathless reply. "You get me," she whispered. "You _really_ do."

"Pick a date." Jack shifted until he was gazing down at Sabrina.

"Huh?"

"Pick a date," he said, slowly enunciating each word.

Sabrina's brain had no trouble processing what was taking place. Her heart, however, was having trouble catching on. Or was refusing to. "Date. For. What?"

"To marry me."

Sabrina slowly sat up, trying her best to resist the urge to put distance between them. "You're…serious?"

"Never been more in my life."

"Marriage. With…me?"

"No, Bri. With the two-headed seal down at the Aquarium. Of course, with you!"

"I…I honestly don't know what to say."

"Tell you what. How about I help you out?" He removed the ring from the case and—in a nod to her Russian heritage—slowly, reverently slid it on the ring finger of her right hand. "You're fluent in five languages; when you hear the one that connects the dots for you, let me know…"

With a deliberateness that was both mesmerizing and frightening, Jack held Sabrina's gaze as he repeated the lone answer he sought; the entire time, his fingers lightly traced the contours of her mouth.

"Yes. Si. Oui. Ja. _Vαί_."

Sabrina, eyes glistening, slowly nodded her head. "Vai," she murmured as Jack's lips claimed hers. _"Vai."_

"Why do you find it so hard to believe I want a life with you?" he asked as he broke off the kiss. "That I want to spend the rest of mine with you, Bri?"

"Because I'm a Cassadine.." She exhaled as the admission tumbled out, making no attempt to wipe away the tears threatening to spill forth. "We…don't…_get_ this. Happy is not included in the package."

"Yeah, I can understand that. I used to believe that; felt that way for a helluva long time."

"What changed?"

Jack raised Sabrina's right hand to his lips and grazed its back with a whisper soft kiss. His gaze found hers and he said softly, "I met you."

# # # # #

She was experiencing what felt like a thousand emotions at once, all of them some variant of elation, yet she still found it all so unbelievable. "So…we're really gonna do this? Are you _sure_ about this, Jack?" Briefly, a flash of agony danced across her beautiful features. "Even knowing that…I…I can't have children?"

Jack was in no way immune to the pain that drenched her words.

Since their reconciliation they had not fully discussed Sabrina's inability to conceive. This much he had gleaned, surprisingly, her infertility was not the result of a malicious act at the hand of family or even a Cassadine enemy, but rather could be attributed to genetics. Something about infertility being an issue on her mother Celeste's side of the family. Armed with that morsel of information, Jack made the deliberate choice not to push the issue, acknowledging it as yet another sign of his lover's willingness to show she was fully committed to their relationship; that even when it was uncomfortable, Sabrina would share all of herself with him.

Even those things that frightened and hurt her most.

"We can adopt," came his simple, deeply heartfelt answer. "And yeah, we are," he nodded. "We really _are_ gonna do this."

"So. . .no reservations about the children thing?" The query was tinged with awe and wonder. "Just...like…that…you wanna marry me?"

"Yeah, just like that," he repeated, mimicking her slow delivery.

"Well, I think it's _definitely_ safe to say this effectively means no more running for me, huh?" She dabbed at her eyes.

"Exactly. I want to make sure you know where things stand, Bri. Where they're headed."

"No more running," she nodded. "I know that this is meant to be. That this is… real."

"I know you do, Babe. So does Viktor." At that moment Jack wished he had a camera to capture Sabrina's look of shock; it was truly priceless. "Yeah, I went to your father and asked for his blessing," he replied, answering the question reflected in her disbelieving dark orbs. "As well as the Prince, Nikolas," he added. "And Stefan. And Andresj'."

"Oh, Jack Bauer!" she marveled as she cupped his face, claiming his lips once again for a resounding kiss. "To run such a gauntlet? You must **really** love me! How can I ever make this up to you?"

"Marry me and we'll call it even."

# # # # #

Sabrina straddled Jack's hips, smiling as she gazed down at him. "So...this is my proposal, huh? Me half-naked; you with a hard on," she teased, lightly grinding against the evidence of his arousal. Stretching out along the length of his body, her head came to rest atop his chest; as she listened to the slow, steady thrum of his heartbeat, a purr of contentment fell from her lips when she felt Jack's strong arms envelop her. "I can't _wait_ to see how you'll answer our kids when they ask you, _'Papa, how did you ask Mama to marry you?'_" she laughed. "That's gonna be priceless."

"I'll tell them the truth. That Papa had serious morning wood 'cause Mama didn't have on any underwear…" he cracked. Deftly, his hand slid from the small of Sabrina's back to sweep across the smooth expanse of her ass, palming a toned globe before giving the supple flesh a resounding smack.

"You wouldn't!" Sabrina gasped.

"Of course I would, Babe," he nodded, kissing her on the temple. "You know I'm kidding, Bri," he laughed. "I'll simply tell them Mama and Papa were on the couch. It's the truth." A wry smile eased across his ruggedly handsome features. "I'll just have to leave out that part about how we'd just finished screwing like weasels the night before…"

"Jack!" Sabrina shrieked, her head snapping up.

A playful wrestling match ensued with Jack quickly emerging victorious, his fiancée's laughing, writhing form gladly pinned beneath him. As the opening strains of soft guitar began to waft from the Bose music system, the impromptu battle was halted.

"Ohhhh, wow! I remember this song!" she exclaimed. "Do you remember it, Jack?"

"Yeah," he nodded knowingly. "What I remember most, though, is _your_ reaction to it. And mine..."

# # # # #

_Out for their third dinner since they'd slept together – _**_not_**_ a "date," as Sabrina was quick to always point out – at the urging of a CTU colleague who swore the best peach pie on the West Coast was to be found there, Jack and Sabrina journeyed to an out of the way L.A. diner. Courtesy of a patron's jukebox selection, the familiar strains of a classic James Taylor tune soon filled the cozy, low-key establishment. _

_~*~__  
><em>_Hey, girls, gather 'round__  
><em>_Listen to what I'm putting down__  
><em>_Hey, baby, I'm your handyman__  
><em>_I'm not the type to use a pencil or rule__  
><em>_I'm handy with love and I'm no fool__  
><em>_I fix broken hearts__  
><em>_I know, but I truly can__  
><em>_~*~_

_"C'mon, dance with me," Jack stood and offered his hand. Bodies pressed close, the male heat wafting off him was inescapable. His gaze, unrelenting. _

"I knew the moment I had you, Bri…"

_~*~__  
><em>_If your broken heart should need repair__  
><em>_Then I am the man to see__  
><em>_I whisper sweet things__  
><em>_You tell all your friends__  
><em>_They'll come running to me__  
><em>_~*~ _

_A knowing, supremely male smile began to ever so faintly tickle the corner of Jack's mouth. He said nothing but watched Sabrina battling (successfully, but just barely) to keep her expression neutral, aloof._

_~*~_  
><em>Here is the main thing I want to say<em>  
><em>I'm busy 24 hours a day<em>  
><em>I fix broken hearts, I know<em>  
><em>But I truly can<em>  
><em>~*~<em>

_The song's lyrics seemed innocuous to her._

_She enjoyed the lazy rhythm of the guitar, even swaying her hips slightly. The feel of Jack's hand at the small of her back was even more pleasant. When he pulled her closer, she didn't resist. Instead, determined, she held his gaze._

_Even while inside her alarms were sounding._

_She began to wonder why did she suddenly feel so…naked? After all, she'd had sex with this man. In every position imaginable. There was no area of each other's body they had not explored or tasted._

_Yet as the song played all she could think to do was _**_run_**_!_

_~*~_  
><em>Come, come, come, come, come, come<em>  
><em>Yeah, yeah, yeah<em>  
><em>Come, come, come, come, come, come,<em>  
><em>They'll come running to me<em>  
><em>Here is the main thing that I want to say<em>  
><em>I'm busy 24 hours a day<em>  
><em>I fix broken hearts<em>  
><em>Baby, I'm your handy man<em>  
><em>~*~<em>

_The entire time, Jack continued to hold her gaze; the small half-smile still in place. He accepted the truth the moment he laid eyes on her for the first time at CTU New York when she performed the emergency surgery on Heller._

_This woman, she was The One. _

"Say what we both knew…what we both felt." Without warning, Jack deftly flipped Sabrina onto her back. His lips brushed against hers. "Say it," he demanded, his voice low.

_~*~__  
><em>_Come, come, come, come, come, come__  
><em>_Yeah, yeah, yeah__  
><em>_Come, come, come, come, come, come__  
><em>_Yeah, yeah, yeah__  
><em>_That's me…__  
><em>_I'm your handy man…__  
><em>_That's me...__  
><em>_I'm your handy man...__  
><em>_~*~ _

_He wouldn't try and soothe her, or dispel her fears; instead, he'd let her run. Not because he knew he could easily overtake her. To do so would defeat his ultimate purpose. Her submission. No, he would sit back and watch because he knew _**_why_**_ she was running. He knew she was fighting, desperately, to deny what her heart had already begun to realize. _

"That I was finally beginning to admit to myself what I knew the moment we met…"

_That he was The One. _

"Tell me."

"You're "it" for me, Jack," Sabrina whispered, her voice as tremulous as her touch. "Then. Now. _Forever_."

**Song Credit: **_**Handy Man**_**, by James Taylor**

The End

**[A/N: Thanks for taking the ride!-Pam]**


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